The 71st Hunger Games: In Ruins
by Krystal Fox
Summary: The 70th Hunger Games is over, and the Capitol is more excited than ever after the success of the last games. There is more pressure than ever on the Gamemakers, but Seneca Crane has a plan. This year's arena will leave the Victor in ruins. (Closed SYOT)
1. Prologue, Part 1: Victory

**A/N Hi everyone! Welcome to my second SYOT!**

 **Here's the first prologue!**

* * *

 **Orlando Cimber, age 16**

 **Victor of the 70th Annual Hunger Games**

* * *

One year.

It's been one year since the 70th Annual Hunger Games.

Being a Victor still hasn't gotten easier.

One thing that makes it bearable is that Mom, Dad, Anita and I no longer have to scrape and save just to have enough to eat.

It's still hard, though. It's harder because no one in my family understands.

They don't understand how it feels to be in the arena.

They don't understand what it feels like to see people die in front of you.

They don't know how much it hurts.

Of course, that might be because I hide it.

I smile and I laugh and I act like nothing's wrong.

I tell myself it's better than drinking my life away, like Haymitch.

Another bright spot in my life is the fact that Anita is nineteen years old now. She's safe from the Reaping forever.

I roll over in my bed and look at the clock. 9:00 AM.

I still don't want to get out of bed.

There are only three days left until the Reaping.

And then, because Haymitch and I are District 12's only living Victors, we'll both have to mentor the tributes.

Fun.

I hear Anita clanking pots and pans together in the kitchen, probably washing dishing after breakfast.

My stomach growls, and I decide that I might as well get up.

I put on my plush bathrobe and head downstairs. Anita grins at me.

"Morning, Orlando!" she says.

"Morning," I say with a weak smile.

"I left a plate out for you," Anita says, pointing a plate on the counter.

"Thanks," I say, and this time, when I smile, it's genuine.

She grins back at me and continues washing the dishes.

I manage to eat most of the food, and what I can't eat I give to Anita's new puppy.

The puppy's name is Gingerbread. She was a gift from one of Anita's many admirers.

Anita also has two canaries, a tame squirrel, and four rabbits.

I'm not even going to get started on the candies and flowers she gets.

Apparently being a Victor's older sister has made her the most sought-after girl in the District.

I sigh and get up from my seat at the counter. I walk over to the couch and sit down.

Gingerbread hops up on the couch next to me.

Feeling bored, I turn on the television to see Caesar Flickerman interviewing someone.

She's clearly from the Capitol: her hair is all red and orange with hints of pink, kind of like a sunset, and she has tattoo that is actually kind of cool. It's a phoenix, and the tattoo starts on her right shoulder: the phoenix's body and outstretched wings take up most of her shoulder, and its tail drapes down towards her chest. Then its neck curves up her neck, and the phoenix's head ends up just below her right eye, while its crest curves up to her eyebrow. The phoenix is seen in profile.

She's smiling and talking to Caesar, and suddenly I recognize her. She's that Gamemaker I met during the Victory Banquet. Rain? Rana? Rani, that's it.

She shifts in her seat, giving me a better view of her tattoo, and I notice that the phoenix's eye and her eyes are the same shade of emerald green. She gives the cameras a large smile, and then turns back to Caesar.

"Anyway, enough about your fashion choices, Miss Glyniss," Caesar says. "As spectacular as they are."

He taps his cheek, and Rani smiles.

"We're here to talk about the upcoming 71st Annual Hunger Games!" he yells. The crowd roars, but no one notices that Rani's smile has suddenly become a little forced.

She straightens her sleek, golden-orange dress and takes a deep breath. "Well, Caesar, I can't reveal too much, but rest assured that this year's Games are going to be like nothing you've ever seen before!"

The crowd cheers again.

Caesar pretends to pout. "Are you sure you can't reveal anything else?"

"Yes, I'm sure," she says with a laugh.

"At least tell us if you're going to be designing mutts for this year's Games!" Caesar says.

"Well, I kind of have to, Caesar, since I'm Head of Mutts!" Rani says.

"That's right!" Caesar says. "I'd quite forgotten!"

Then their conversation turns to other things, like how District 5 is getting a new escort, and I turn off the television with a sigh.

I lean my head back against the back of the couch, and Gingerbread crawls into my lap.

I have a feeling that this year's Hunger Games are going to be worse than last year's.

* * *

 **A/N So that's the first prologue!**

 **Just so everyone knows, SUBMISSIONS ARE STILL OPEN! PLEASE SUBMIT!**

 **Anyway, I hope you liked it, and please review!**


	2. Prologue, Part 2: Phoenix

**A/N Hi everyone! Here's the second prologue!**

* * *

 **Rani Glyniss, age 28**

 **Gamemaker**

* * *

I shuffle through the pile of papers on my desk, looking for my mutt design notebook.

I hate doing this, but I don't really have a choice.

So I keep looking for my notebook.

Eventually, I find it, and I start flipping through the blank pages, hoping for inspiration.

Nothing comes to me.

I run my fingers through my sunset-colored hair, starting to feel slightly panicked.

Just then, a young woman walks past with a tray full of coffee cups. I remember that she is one of my interns, although her name escapes me.

"Coffee, Miss Glyniss?" she asks, holding the tray out to me.

She has large, doe-like brown eyes and wispy, white-blond hair. Her skin is very pale, and her face is dusted with gold glitter. Her incredibly long eyelashes are encrusted with tiny, golden jewels, and she has a heart-shaped, golden nose-piercing. She is quite short.

I give her a smile. "Yes, thank you..?"

"Cerena Heavensbee."

"Thank you, Cerena," I say with a smile.

She grins and practically skips away.

I watch her leave, smiling.

So she's Plutarch's daughter.

Ever since I joined the rebellion, I've learned some very interesting things about my fellow Gamemakers.

The most important thing I've learned is that Plutarch is part of the rebellion too.

His entire family is.

Which means that innocent-looking, nineteen-year-old Cerena is actually a rebel.

I smile, and take a sip of my coffee.

Just then, an idea pops into my head and I nearly spill my coffee in my haste to grab my notebook.

I pick up my pencil and quickly begin to sketch, drawing my idea.

Then I head over to the holotable to start the actual process of designing.

I turn to one of the mutt designers. "Go tell Mr Crane that I've got a mutt for him, and he can come and see it whenever he wants."

He nods and runs off. I can't help a small glow of pride as I remember that I'm his boss now.

I'm the boss of everyone in the Mutt Department.

I shake my head to clear it and turn to another mutt designer. "Scan this," I say, putting the drawing down on the holotable.

The woman nods, and scans the drawing.

The mutt pops up on the holotable, and I nod in satisfaction.

This year's Hunger Games will not be easily forgotten.

* * *

 **A/N So that's the second prologue!**

 **I hope you liked it, and please review!**


	3. D6 Intros: In a Hopeless Place

**A/N Hi everyone! So, for this SYOT, I'm doing something a little different. I'm going to do Reapings, because they're really boring. Instead, I'm going to do intros. Basically, they're introductions to the tributes, but they're not Reapings.**

 **After the intros, I'm going to do a Reaping recap, and then I'm going to skip to the train rides.**

 **Now, on to the chapter!**

* * *

 **Maia Morrigan, age 15**

* * *

Glass breaking.

People yelling.

Peacekeeper boots stomping.

People screaming.

People groaning.

Dogs barking.

Gunshots.

People crying.

This part of the District is never quiet.

I've learned to ignore the sounds, though.

If I paid attention, I'd go crazy listening to all the suffering around me.

Not that I care what happens to anyone else.

I haven't cared about anyone or anything in years.

No one in this stupid, poverty-stricken District cares about anyone but themselves.

That's how it's always been.

And that's how it always will be.

I kick at an empty bottle and watch it tumble down the street.

I blow out smoke from my cigarette.

It's pouring rain: a cold, soaking, heavy rain that would make anyone want to run for their home.

That's what the rest of the kids at school are doing.

Not me, though.

I'm taking my time.

I spot a little girl, I think her name is Emilee, sprinting through the rain, holding one of her textbooks over her head.

I sneer and knock the textbook out of her hands.

She yelps as the rain starts to soak her.

Then my friend Daria trips her, and she falls into a filthy puddle.

We both laugh, and high-five each other.

Then we keep walking.

No one stops to help Emilee up.

That's not how things go in this District.

Daria hands me a half-empty bottle of some kind of alcohol, and I take a drink.

Pretty soon, we are joined by my other friend, Eagle.

"What's up, Double M?" he asked, giving me a nudge with his elbow.

"Nothin' much." I say, blowing out some more smoke.

He nods, and then the three of us continue walking.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot my former best friend, Cece, walking along with an umbrella over her head.

She and I used to be really close.

Then my life went completely down the drain and she started saying I was making bad choices, so I got mad and then we just kind of stopped being friends.

As if she knows anything about making bad choices or having a tough life.

She's the mayor's daughter. She's pretty and smart and sickeningly sweet.

Everyone thinks she's perfect.

Just then, Eagle spots her.

"Look, Dare. It's the princess," he says, nudging Daria.

"That's a pretty umbrella she's got there," Daria says, grinning evilly.

"It'd be a shame if anything happened to it," Eagle says, picking up a bottle.

"Indeed it would," says Daria happily.

I smother a giggle behind my hand. This is why I'm friends with Daria and Eagle.

Eagle tosses the bottle at Cece's umbrella, knocking out of her hands. The wind catches it, blowing it into the air.

She starts to chase it, her pretty blue sweater and her silky black skirt getting all wet.

The three of us burst out laughing, and she sends us a glare when she finally catches it, her normally neat dark red curls soaking wet and tangled up.

Her expression turns from angry to hurt when she sees me laughing with Eagle and Daria. I give her a mocking little salute, and then turn around, my soaking wet, tangled hair whipping out behind me.

Pretty soon, we come to Daria's house. It's not so much a house as it is an abandoned warehouse, but her family doesn't care. Eagle goes inside with her, leaving me alone.

Eventually, I arrive at my apartment. I open the door with my key and head inside, peeling off my soaked, ratty leather jacket. Mom is passed out on the couch again, but I ignore her and run upstairs to my room.

I drop the jacket on my bed and glance in the mirror.

My heavy, dark makeup is smeared, making me look like a raccoon. My brown hair is tangled and wet from the rain, and my blue eyes are bloodshot. My tan skin looks paler than usual because of the cold.

I stick my tongue out at my reflection. I don't care what I look like.

I flop down on my bed, listening to the sounds of this part of the District.

I'm so sick of living in this hopeless place.

* * *

 **Egan Alice, age 13**

* * *

Crash.

Bang.

Boom.

Thud.

Clang.

My father's head pops up from behind the car he was hiding behind, and he stares at the remains of the engine that just exploded.

I slowly poke my head out from behind the car I was hiding behind, and then I walk back out into the open as my father starts examining the engine.

"You can go now, Egan," he says. "I don't need your help after all."

I nod, and then head out of Dad's workshop, feeling an unmistakable sense of relief.

My mother smiles at me as I enter the house. "Hi, honey," she says, giving me a hug. "What was that explosion?"

"An engine exploded," I say. "I'm not hurt, and Dad didn't get hurt either."

"That's good," Mom says with a smile. "Are you hungry?"

"Oh, yeah," I say.

"Well, I think we've got some leftovers from dinner last night," she says with a laugh. "I'll go pull them out."

Mom walks over to the fridge and peers inside. "Do you want chicken or bread?"

"Bread," I say.

Mom pulls out two slices of heavy, dark brown bread and hands them to me.

I sit down on the couch and start to eat. Mom sits down beside me.

"How was school?" Mom asks.

"Not bad," I say.

"You didn't get into another fight, did you?" she asks.

When I don't answer, she sighs. "Why do you do this?" she says, looking sad.

I shrug.

She sighs again, and opens her mouth to say something else, when the front door opens and my older brother, Apollo, walks in.

"Hey, Mom," he says. "Hey, Egan."

I wave at him, and Mom gets up off the couch and gives him a hug.

"Do you want some leftovers?" Mom asks.

Apollo laughs and shakes his head, and then he runs upstairs to his room.

I sigh and lean back against the back of the couch.

Dad comes into the house, wiping his hands on a greasy rag. Mom smiles at him and starts to give him a hug, but then she stops.

"What?" Dad asks, pretending to be hurt.

"You're covered in grease!" Mom says with a laugh. "Go take a shower!"

Dad laughs as well, and then heads upstairs to take a shower.

"Egan, could you come here and help me with dinner?" Mom says.

"Coming, Mom," I say, getting up from my spot on the couch.

Mom hands me some grain to mix up with water, and then she starts cooking the leftover chicken.

Pretty soon, the smells of hot grain and chicken fill the house.

Apollo comes bounding downstairs, hair dripping, and wearing fresh clothes. "Do I smell chicken?"

"Dinner's almost ready," Mom says. "Could you set the table?"

Apollo nods, and starts setting the table.

A couple minutes later, dinner is ready, and we're all sitting at the table.

I smile slightly as I start to eat.

This District might be a hopeless place, but my family is pretty great.

* * *

 **A/N Meet District 6's tributes! Thanks to PurpleFrenchFryAmy and BabyRue11 for Maia and Egan!**

 **I hope you liked it, and please review!**


	4. D1 Intros: Diamonds Out of Dust

**A/N Hi everyone! Here's the District 1 intros!**

* * *

 **Andromida Nyx Lede, age 18**

* * *

My eyes flutter open as a shaft of sunlight hits my face. I roll over and bury my face in my pillow, trying to get back to sleep.

I am just dozing off when I hear footsteps, and then my fluffy blanket is yanked off me.

"Wake up!" yells an overly perky voice.

"Go away, Veraline," I say with a groan.

"You have to get up," Veraline says. "Today's the day that they pick the male and female volunteers, and you don't want to miss that."

I immediately sit straight up. "That's today?"

"Yes!" my older sister says with a laugh. "Now get ready!"

"Thanks for reminding me!" I yell as she leaves.

Once Veraline is gone, I walk over to my closet to pick out an outfit. After all, I want to look my best today.

I eventually pick a light blue, button-up shirt and a pair of black pants. Since it's kind of chilly out, I grab the black coat I got for my birthday. It's special because it has a fluffy collar made of real mink.

My best friend, Serenity, says I look very sophisticated when I wear it.

I brush my hair, and then I do it into a french braid.

Right as I'm about to leave, I check my appearance in the mirror. I have long, pale blond hair that is slightly wavy and gray-blue eyes. My skin is very pale, and I am lean and slender from training so much. I am also quite short.

I smile at my reflection, and then I pull on a pair of knee-length, brown leather boots.

Then I run downstairs.

My mother smiles at me as I grab a blueberry muffin. "I'm so proud of you, Andri!"

"We both are," says my father.

"Thanks," I say. "I've got to go now, see you later!"

"See you later!" Mom yells as I walk out the door.

I breathe a sigh of relief as I start to walk to the Training Academy. I don't actually want to volunteer. I'd rather become a teacher and actually do some good.

However, my parents are huge fans of the Hunger Games, so they want me to volunteer. They're not going to force me to do it, but they really, really want me to volunteer.

As I walk, my thoughts wander to the fairy tale I read last night. This one was longer than fairy tales usually are, and it was about thirteen dwarves, a wizard, a hobbit, a mountain, and a dragon. I stayed up until nearly midnight finishing it.

Fairy tales are my passion, and my escape from reality. When my parents are getting too demanding about volunteering, I can always escape into some fantastical world.

I shake my head to clear it and keep walking.

A couple minutes later, I walk into the large, gray building known as the Hunger Games Training Academy.

I walk through the Training Room and into the back area, where all the other boys and girls from my year are already gathered.

I take a seat at the girls' table, just as the Head Trainer, Heloise Stone, comes into the room.

"Hello, boys and girls," she says. "You all know why you are here. Today is the day we chose who will represent our District in the 71st Annual Hunger Games!"

Everyone cheers.

"Reading the names today will be one of District 1's Victors: Athena Bellcreek," Miss Stone says as a red-haired woman in her late twenties comes in.

"This year, the boy volunteer will be...Lawson Wynters," Athena says, sounding less than excited.

A tall, muscular, dark-haired boy gets out of his seat and pumps his fist.

"Hurray for Lawson," says Athena. "Now for the girl. The female volunteer this year will be...Marvia Veli."

To my surprise, no one leaps to their feet in joy. Everyone starts looking around in confusion, and then a petite, black-haired girl gets to her feet.

"Marvia broke her leg sledding yesterday," she says. "There's no way she'll be able to fight!"

There is a moment of silence. And then everyone begins to talk at once.

"QUIET!" Miss Stone yells. "We'll just have to go with the second in line."

"Who is that?" asks a girl with curly, dusty brown hair.

"Andromida Nyx Lede," says Miss Stone.

It takes me a moment to register that I was just chosen to volunteer for the Hunger Games.

Then I take a deep breath, get to my feet, and smile.

Then I sit back down again.

I've heard people say that being in the Hunger Games makes diamonds out of dust.

At the moment, I think I'd rather be dust.

* * *

 **Quentin Ferro, age 18**

* * *

I lean my head back against the trunk of an apple tree, hoping that inspiration will magically strike.

It doesn't.

I groan and stare down at the stubbornly blank pages of my poetry book.

Just then, my younger sister, Cynthia, slips out the back door and walks over to me. "Hey."

"Hey," I say. "What's up?"

"Nothing much," she says. "I just had to get away from Dad for a bit."

"Is he still set on training you for the Hunger Games?" I ask in amazement.

"Oh, yeah," Cynthia says. "Speaking of which, are you really going to volunteer?"

"Yes," I say.

Cynthia sighs. "Why?"

"You know why," I say.

"No, I don't!" she snaps, suddenly looking angry. "Is it because of Dad? Or is it something else? I really don't understand, Q."

"Look, Cynthia, I can't have this conversation right now," I say. "I'm trying to write."

"Fine," Cynthia says, getting up.

She's halfway to the door before she turns around. "It's because of Dad, isn't it?"

I give her a soft smile. "Right again."

She smiles sadly, and then goes inside the house.

I lean my head back against the trunk of the apple tree with a sigh. Cynthia and I both know that neither of us would have started training if it weren't for our father.

My father is a huge Hunger Games fan, and he wants to have at least one Victor in the family. He's been training me and Cynthia ever since I was eleven and she was six.

I sigh again and try to focus on my poetry, but it's hard now that I'm thinking about the Hunger Games.

I suppress a shudder as I remember the previous Games. I'm not sure even I would have survived those mutts, especially not the giant white one at the end.

I shake my head to clear it.

I have to volunteer.

For Cynthia.

After all, if I win, she won't have to volunteer.

I sigh again, wishing my father didn't like the Games so much.

I know he means well.

After all, this entire District loves the Hunger Games.

Just then, I remember something one of the Victors said: The Hunger Games makes diamonds out of dust.

I'm not sure if that's true.

I've seen the Victors when they come through District 1 on their Victory Tours.

They look like they'd rather be dust than diamonds.

I force those thoughts out of my head.

I'm going to volunteer for the Hunger Games, and I'll either come back as a diamond, or I won't come back at all.

* * *

 **A/N Meet District 1's tributes! They're both pretty great, aren't they?**

 **I hope you liked it, and please review!**

 **P.S. Thanks to EllaRoseEverdeen and C. Montgomery Burns for Andromida and Quentin!**


	5. D11 Intros: Stronger

**A/N Hi everyone! Here's the District 11 intros!**

* * *

 **Willow Thresher, age 18**

* * *

I walk down the street on my way home from the market, carrying a basket of food.

I glance up at the cloudy sky, hoping that it doesn't start raining until I get home.

Fortunately for me, it doesn't.

I open the door to my house and go inside, setting the basket down on the kitchen counter.

"Mom!" I yell. "I'm home!"

My mother comes running down the stairs and gives me a hug. "Hi, honey," she says. "Did you get everything on the list?"

"Yes," I say, fighting back the urge to roll my eyes. Then I look around. "Where are the wards?"

"Ginny, Cher, and Barry are outside playing. Abby and Quail are keeping an eye on them, though," she says.

"I'm gonna go call them in," I say. "I think a storm's coming."

I walk over to the back door. "Virginia! Chervil! Barry! Abby! Quail! Come inside, there's a storm coming!"

The five wards come inside, although some of them look distinctly unhappy about it.

Especially eight-year-old Virginia and ten-year-old Chervil.

Barry just turned twelve, so he's been trying to act more mature.

Abby is sixteen and Quail is eighteen, so the responsibility of watching out for the younger wards has kind of fallen to them.

At least, when I'm not home.

"You really think there's gonna be a storm?" Quail asks.

"Yeah," I say, starting to put away the food.

"Why?" asks Virginia.

"Look at the sky," I say in response.

Virginia immediately runs over to the nearest window to look at the sky.

I sigh and stuff a loaf of tesserae grain bread into a cupboard.

Me, Quail, and Abby all take tesserae. Barry wanted to, but Mom wouldn't let him.

"Listen!" Chervil suddenly says.

Everyone goes silent, and then I hear the sound of raindrops on the roof.

"You were right," Quail says with a grin.

"Aren't I always?" I say with a smirk.

He snorts.

I laugh.

Virginia runs over to me, a big smile on her face. "Can I go outside?"

"No," I say. "Sorry, but you might catch a cold."

"Fine," she says, looking disappointed.

I smile at her and ruffle her hair. "How about an apple? Would that make you feel better?"

"Yes!" she squeals, all traces of unhappiness gone.

"Quail, can you grab an apple for Ginny?" I ask.

"Sure," he says with a grin.

He grabs an apple from the fruit basket on the kitchen counter and hands it to Virginia.

"Thank you!" she says with a grin. Then she runs off.

I sigh and sit down on one of the stools next to the kitchen counter, feeling tired.

"What's wrong?" Quail asks.

"I'm just tired," I say, smiling at him.

"Oh," he says.

We sit in silence for several minutes.

"I'm worried about Barry," I blurt out. Quail knows I'm talking about the Reaping.

"Me too," Quail says. "But we've done everything we can."

"I know," I say, running a hand through my curly brown hair. "I'm still worried, though."

Quail puts an arm around me. "We'll be all right, Willow."

I smile at him. "I know."

Then I clear my throat, and get up to start making lunch.

I can't afford to worry.

I have to be stronger than that.

* * *

 **Raphael Sylvan, age 14**

* * *

I flop down on my bed in exhaustion.

Today was a long day in the fields, especially since everyone had to stay later than usual to help sort the crops.

I feel completely drained of energy, which almost never happens. Normally, I'm a bundle of nervous energy.

Just then, two of my brothers, Vincent and Roger, walk into the room. They both look exhausted as well.

"Hey," Vincent says.

"Hey," I say.

"Long day?" he asks.

"Yup," I say.

Vincent and Roger collapse onto their beds.

We sit in silence for several minutes, and then Roger starts to snore.

I manage a weak smile at that.

Vincent drags himself to his feet. "I'm gonna go see if Florence is back from school yet. Wanna come?"

"No," I say.

"Fine," he says. He staggers to the door, and then I hear him walking downstairs.

I wonder whether my oldest brother, Carter, and my oldest sister, Clementine, are back from the fields yet. She's seventeen and he's eighteen, so they might have to stay longer than I did.

The door opens again, and Vincent, who is fifteen, comes back in. "She's not home yet."

"Oh," I say.

When Vincent flops back down on his bed, Roger, who is eleven, wakes up.

Of course, he falls back asleep again just as quickly.

"Where are Alexis and Mabel?" I ask. "Are they home?"

"Yeah, they're home," Vincent says tiredly. "They're both in their room. Probably sleeping."

"Oh," I say. That makes sense. If Alexis and Mabel had as long a day as I did, it makes sense that they'd be asleep. After all, Mabel is only twelve, and Alexis is eleven, the same age as Roger.

Just then, I hear the front door open.

"That's probably Florence," I say.

"Mmmmph," says Vincent. He looks half asleep.

Sure enough, a couple minutes later, nine-year-old Florence opens the door to tell us that she's home.

She doesn't get much response, since Roger is asleep, Vincent is half asleep, and I'm feeling too tired to talk.

A couple minutes later, I'm asleep.

When I wake up again, it's considerably darker out than it was when I fell asleep, and I hear the front door closing.

Clementine and Carter must finally be home.

I get out of bed and stagger downstairs to see my older siblings practically collapsed at the kitchen table.

My mother gives me a tired smile. "Hi, honey."

"Hi, Mom," I say. "Hi, Clem. Hi, Carter."

Clementine waves tiredly. Carter just blinks at me.

"What's for dinner?" I ask.

"Tesserae grain," Mom says, stirring a pot.

"Oh," I say. "I'm going back to bed."

I stagger back up the stairs, still feeling tired.

Dad likes to say that this much hard work will make us stronger.

Personally, I'd rather be happy than strong.

* * *

 **A/N Meet Willow and Raphael! Thanks to BloodedInk and Elim9 for these awesome tributes!**

 **I hope you liked it, and please review!**


	6. D7 Intros: Break the Mold

**A/N Hi everyone! Here's the District 7 intros!**

* * *

 **Camille Laureline, age 16**

* * *

"Come on, Marcy!" I yell with a giggle.

"Slow down, Cammy!" Marcia, one of my best friends, yells in response.

"Both of you stop!" Tahari, my other best friend, snaps.

"Lighten up, Tary!" I say, slowing down and grabbing Marcy and Tary's hands.

"Don't call me Tary," Tarhari snaps, tossing her silky sheet of black hair.

"We'll call you Tary if we want to!" Marcy says, green eyes sparkling.

"Yeah!" I say, brushing my deep brown, ringlet style hair out of my face.

Tahari huffs and slips her hand out of mine. "You two are so immature."

"That's what makes us fun!" I yell joyously.

"I'm serious!" Tary says, her pale face starting to flush with anger. "We're all sixteen now!"

"Why should that matter?" says Marcy, running a hand through her tangled, red hair. "And why are you being so serious all of a sudden?"

"Because!" Tahari yells, her face steadily getting redder. "Because pretty soon, we're going to have to start working. And you can't work if you're pulling pranks and dancing around in the woods talking about fairies!"

"We don't talk about fairies," I mutter.

"That doesn't matter!" Tarhari snaps.

"Seriously, what is wrong?" Marcy says.

That's when I notice Tary has tears in her eyes. She sighs. "My parents are making me get married," Tary whispers.

"Seriously?" I ask in amazement.

She nods. "That's why I've been acting so weird. I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Marcy says.

"When?" I ask, still feeling like my world has just been turned upside down.

"Once I'm nineteen," Tary says, wiping her nose with her sleeve.

Marcy runs a hand through her hair again. "Who?"

"Some guy named Cedar Lee," Tahari says.

I blink again. "Isn't he the boy who is...you know."

"Yeah," Tary says. "I think that's why his parents want him to get married."

"Yow," says Marcy.

"Right?" Tahari says.

I rub my temples. "So let me get this straight. When you're nineteen, you're going to have to marry a boy who is clearly homosexual, and you don't get any say about it?"

"Pretty much," says Tary.

"I'll say it again: yow," Marcy says.

"That about sums it up," Tahari says, sitting down on a log.

Marcy and I sit down next to her, one of us on either side of her.

"How does Cedar feel about this?" I ask after several minutes of silence.

"I don't know," Tary says. "I've barely even spoken to him."

"Maybe we can get your parents to change their minds," I say.

"I don't know," says Tahari. "They're pretty set on having me get married. I think my mom's exact words were: "I want to have grandchildren before I die.""

Marcia shakes her head in complete amazement.

However, my mind is already racing with possibilities.

Because, if there's one thing I'm good at, it's breaking the mold.

* * *

 **Cedar Lee, age 15**

* * *

"YOU HAVE TO DO WHAT?" one of my best friends, Alice, yells.

"I told you, I have to get married," I say, feeling a headache starting to form.

"I DON'T BELIEVE THIS!" Alice screams.

"Please stop shouting," I say with a sigh.

"Fine, sorry," Alice says. "I'm just really, really MAD RIGHT NOW!"

I wince.

"Sorry, sorry," Alice says, brushing her blond hair out of her eyes.

"Why?" says my other best friend, Kenneth. "Also, who are you marrying?"

"Which question do you want me to answer first?" I say with a bitter smile.

"The second one," Alice says quickly.

"Her name is Tahari Xu," I say. "And she's sixteen years old."

"Isn't she one of Camille Laureline's best friends?" Kenneth asks.

"You would know, you've got a giant crush on Camille," says Alice.

Kenneth turns the same shade of red as a tomato. I manage a laugh.

"Now, why do you have to get married?" Kenneth asks, clearly desperate to move the conversation away from Camille.

"Because my parents are not as accepting of me as I thought," I say.

"I thought they were fine with it!" Alice says, her voice rising again.

"They were until Jakk," I say with a sigh.

"Oh," says Alice. "I guess you getting a boyfriend kind of made it real, huh?"

"Guess so," I say glumly, flopping down on Alice's couch.

"Have you told Jakk yet?" Kenneth asks.

"No," I say. "He's going to be out in the woods for the next week on a logging expedition."

"Oh," Kenneth says.

There is a long silence, and then Alice leaps to her feet.

"There's got to be a way to stop this!" she yells. "When is the wedding supposed to be?"

"When she's nineteen and I'm eighteen," I say dully.

"All right, we can totally stop this," Alice says, starting to pace back and forth. "We just need a plan."

After that, I start to tune Alice out.

I've been breaking the mold all my life, but I'm afraid that this is one time being different is going to come back to bite me.

* * *

 **A/N District 7! Thanks to EllaRoseEverdeen and BabyRue11 for Camille and Cedar!**

 **I hope you liked it, and please review!**


	7. D9 Intros: Ain't Ever Gonna Be Fair

**A/N Hi everyone! Here's the District 9 intros!**

* * *

 **Zerine Sunlie, age 15**

* * *

"Jump, ZuZu!"

"Yeah, jump!"

"Go, ZuZu!"

I grin at the crowd of teenagers sitting on the shore of the lake. "Do you want me to jump?"

"Yes!" they yell.

"I can't hear you!" I yell back.

"YES!" they yell.

I laugh, and step to the very edge of the large boulder I'm standing on. I take a deep breath, and then I jump.

I hit the water with an enormous splash, and, when I swim back to the surface, I hear all my friends cheering.

I brush my wet hair out of my eyes and swim toward shore, where I am greeted by high-fives and cheers.

"That was awesome, ZuZu!" my friend Chelsi squeals.

"I know!" I say, tossing my wet, black hair.

"All right!" yells a boy I don't know. "Let's get this party started!"

Just then, my friend Marvin runs up to me and Chelsi. "They've got beer!"

"Sweet!" I say, before running off to grab a beer.

A couple minutes later, I'm sitting on a rock next to the lake, drinking beer and talking with my friends.

"So, where's Delia?" I ask.

"She didn't want to come," Marvin says with a sigh. "She said something about how we should be more responsible."

"Who wants to be responsible?" I ask. "We're fifteen, why can't we just have some fun?"

"Actually, I'm fourteen," Chelsi says.

"Whatever!" I yell, taking another drink of beer.

"I'm gonna jump off the boulder," Marvin says. "Anyone wanna come?"

"Nope," I say. "Been there, done that."

"Suit yourself," he says, pulling off his shirt.

Everyone cheers as Marvin climbs to the top of the boulder and jumps off. Chelsi and I clap loudly.

Pretty soon, the sun is starting to set, and it's getting too cold to swim.

We all gather around the fire and drink beer and roast the sausages Jack and Holly stole from the butcher.

Then the stars are coming out, and everyone starts to go home.

Chelsi is one of the first to go, because apparently she has to be home by 10 o'clock.

By 8 o'clock, me, Marvin, Jack, and Holly are the only ones left.

Jack and Holly are brother and sister, and they don't have to be home by a certain time because they don't have any parents. They live in a sort of a hut just outside the wheat fields.

Finally, I stagger to my feet and start heading home. I hope my parents are asleep, otherwise I'm going to have to explain why I'm drunk, and, in the condition I'm in, that won't be easy.

After what feels like hours, I make it to my house and stagger inside.

I look around to make sure my parents aren't waiting for me, and then I quietly stagger up the stairs to my room.

Unfortunately, I neglect to make sure that no one is waiting in my room, so I nearly jump out of my high heels when I see my mother sitting on my bed.

"Zerine Alisia Sunlie, where have you been?" she asks, looking furious.

"Ummmmm, out?" I reply.

"Out where?" she asks.

"Somewhere!" I say. "Anywhere to get away from you and Dad fighting all the time!"

Mom sighs. "Zerine, just because your father and are getting divorced does not mean you can run off!"

"Oh, yeah?" I snap. "Well then maybe you should pay more attention to me 'stead of runnin' around and divorcin' people!"

Suddenly, Mom's eyes widen. "Zerine, are you drunk?"

"Nooooooooo!" I say.

"Yes you are!" Mom says, looking, if possible, even angrier.

"Well, all right," I say.

Mom rubs her temples. "I don't believe this."

"Well, if you paid any 'tention to me at all, you'd know that this kinda thing's been goin' on for a wheel! I man a while. I mean a while!"

Mom's jaw drops open, and then she opens and closes her mouth several times. "I can't deal with this right now," she says as she runs from the room.

"Yeah! Go 'head an' run! See'f I care! I'll juss sit 'ere on the bed 'til you comes to you' senses!" I yell, attempting to sit on the bed, except I miss the bed and sit on the floor.

My last thought before I fall asleep is: _That wasn't fair, what Mom said. But, then again, nothing in my life has ever been fair. And it's never gonna be._

* * *

 **James Miller, age 18**

* * *

I wipe sweat off my face and stare up at the sky, trying to figure out how much longer it will be before it's time to stop work.

A Peacekeeper yells something at me, and I quickly get back to work.

I make sure not to make any Peacekeepers angry ever since one of them shot my father in front of me when I was ten.

Nearly two hours later, the sun is about to set, and it's finally time to stop work.

I walk home, feeling like I'm about to collapse with exhaustion.

I open the door with my key and walk inside, and, as soon as I'm inside, I head straight for the kitchen.

I know my mother won't be home at this time of day, so I grab a couple of slices of tesserae grain bread and an apple, and then I sit down at the kitchen table to eat.

Just then, there is a knock at the door. I open the door to see my friends, Demeter and Trent, standing there with a basket.

"Happy birthday!" they say in unison.

My jaw drops. I completely forgot it was my birthday today.

"Can we come in?" Trent asks.

"Sure!" I say.

The two of them come inside, and Demeter puts the basket on the table.

"So, James, you've finally caught up with me," Trent says. "You're eighteen now."

I grin. "Yep. And, in a couple of weeks, Demeter will be eighteen too."

Trent gasps and pretends to look terrified.

Demeter and I laugh.

"Anyway, do you want to see what's in the basket?" Demeter asks.

"Yeah, sure," I say.

Demeter reaches into the basket and pulls out a block of cheese, some baked sausages, and loaf of white bread.

"This is your birthday dinner!" she says happily.

"And your birthday present!" says Trent.

"Thanks, guys!" I say happily.

The three of us sit down and start eating, and, pretty soon, the cheese, sausages, and bread are all gone.

Life here in District 9 is never gonna be fair. However, I've managed to be happy anyway.

* * *

 **A/N Meet District 9's tributes! Thanks to HungerGamesTribute12 and Greywolf44 for these awesome tributes!**

 **Now for some questions:**

 **Which of these tributes do you like better?**

 **Who do you think will make it farther?**

 **I hope you liked it, and please review!**


	8. D2 Intros: Fire and Fury

**A/N Hi everyone! Here's the District 2 intros!**

* * *

 **Crimson Legacy, age 17**

* * *

I run a brush through my tangled, unruly ginger curls, trying to make myself look at least sort of presentable for tonight. My parents are having a party for me and Devon Stonesmith, the other chosen volunteer.

I've been brushing my hair for almost thirty minutes, and it still barely looks presentable. I groan, but I just keep brushing.

Ten minutes later, my hair is brushed, silky-smooth, and pulled back in a bun.

Then I start putting on my make-up: a flick of mascara on my eyelashes, bright gold eyeshadow, blush, and bright pink lip gloss.

Once my make-up is done, I put on the dress Mom bought for me last week. It's a scarlet silk slip with layers upon layers of crimson, dark red, fiery orange, bright yellow, and sparkly gold gossamer on top. Golden high-heels and my favorite golden, heart-shaped locket complete the look.

I nearly don't recognize myself when I look in the mirror. I look like some kind of fire-fairy. I shiver at that thought. I don't like fire much.

I shake my head to clear it, take a deep breath, and then head downstairs.

I hear the sounds of polite conversation as I descend the stairs, but everyone stops talking when they see me. I smile slightly. That's the reaction I was hoping for.

My best friend, Jade Boulder, grabs my hand and drags me over to the couch as soon as she sees me. She looks amazing in a tight, black dress with silver swirls all over it and high-heeled silver shoes.

There's only one weird thing about her appearance. She's wearing a hat.

"You look amazing, Cris!" Jade says happily.

"So do you, but what's with the hat?" I say.

"Oh, my dad made me wear it," she says, frowning slightly.

"Why?" I ask.

In response, she pulls off the hat, and her hair comes tumbling down in sleek, silver waves.

"Wow!" I say. "You dyed your hair?"

"Yup," she says with a smile.

"It looks incredible!" I say in amazement. "But why'd you do it?"

Her icy blue eyes glow with satisfaction. "I decided I didn't want to let my dad rule my life anymore."

I bite my lip. Jade's dad is Blayde Boulder, a Victor. He made her older sister, Topaz, volunteer for the Hunger Games last year. I guess Jade doesn't want the same thing to happen to her.

"So, dyeing your hair silver was, like, an act of defiance?" I ask.

"Pretty much," she says with grin.

I grin back, and then we both start laughing. Just then, my mother walks over to me and Jade, wearing a shimmering blue dress and a giant smile.

"Hello, dear!" she says.

"Hi, Mom," I say. "How's the party going?"

"Very well," Mom says. "I came over to tell you that there's a photographer who wants to get some pictures of you and Devon."

"Oh," I say.

"Now," Mom says.

"Oh!" I say.

I follow Mom back to a small, and relatively peaceful, corner of the living room. I shake hands with the photographer, who is obviously from the Capitol, and grin at Devon. He grins back.

Fortunately for me, it doesn't take long for the photographer to get the photos he needs, and then he runs off to get some pictures of Victors.

I'm walking over to the food table when my younger sister, Artemis, walks over to me.

"I don't want you to do this," she says.

"Well, hi to you too," I say.

Artemis puts her hands on her hips and glares at me. "I'm serious. I don't want you to volunteer."

"Why not?" I ask.

"You know why," she snaps.

"Don't you dare bring that up," I hiss, feeling a stab of grief in my chest.

"Jade died, Cris," growls Artemis.

"Don't act all sad," I say. "You barely even knew him."

"I knew him well enough," she says angrily.

I close my eyes, feeling tears start to well up. I push past my younger sister and run blindly up the stairs and into my room.

I flop down on my bed, and, as the tears start to flow, I think about my older brother, Jade Legacy, who, not too long ago, died in the 70th Annual Hunger Games.

I think about how Dad, Artemis, and I fled District 1 eight years ago, when Dad was accused of being a rebel. Mom and Jade stayed behind.

I was only nine years old at the time, but I still remember sneaking on to a train bound for District 2, and then sitting in a cargo compartment for hours on end.

I still remember six-year-old Artemis clutching her teddy bear and asking what was going on.

I still remember ten-year-old Jade giving me my locket.

I vividly remember how, four years ago, Dad met a pretty, snow-blond woman with two little boys, one nine years old and the other seven.

I remember how mad I was.

I remember how I eventually accepted that Dad liked her.

I sigh, and wipe my eyes, smearing my mascara.

I get up off my bed and look at myself in the mirror.

My mascara is smeared in thick, black lines on my cheeks.

I scowl at my once-pretty reflection.

I don't look like a fire-fairy anymore.

Now, I look like fire and fury.

* * *

 **Carlisle De Amire, age 18**

* * *

I collapse onto the couch as the camera crew finally leaves.

My twin sister, Calypso, puts her hand on my shoulder and smiles sympathetically.

"You all right?" she asks.

"Fine," I say. Even though I'm feeling the opposite of fine.

After all, who could possibly feel fine when they've just found out that they're going to have to volunteer for a death match? And it's not just that, either. I'm going to have to volunteer for a death match because I've spent my entire life on a stupid reality show, and now apparently the ratings of said show are down, so the producers are trying to boost the ratings by rigging the Reaping so that my younger brother gets reaped.

And I'm supposed to volunteer.

I get up and stomp upstairs to my room, ignoring my mother's excited chattering and my little brother's laughter.

I can't believe they're happy about this.

I've never really wanted to go into the Hunger Games. I have trained, but that was only because my father wanted me to.

I open the door to my room, walk inside, and collapse on my bed.

The worst part about this whole situation is the fact that I don't have a choice.

I feel a fresh wave of nervousness as I realize that the Academy has probably already picked a boy to be the male tribute. Whoever this boy is, he's going to hate me after tomorrow.

Or maybe he won't. Maybe he'll feel relieved.

I sigh and roll over onto my back.

I wonder who my District partner will be.

I remember my dad talking about the people the Academy picked. I think the girl's name was Crimson. That's right. Crimson Legacy.

Something about her name makes me feel like I recognize it.

Like I've heard it before.

After a couple minutes of thinking, it hits me. Last year's District 1 male's name was Jade Legacy.

It could be a coincidence, but something tells me it's not.

I start to feel frustrated as I realize that there's no way I can figure this out on my own.

Then I have an idea, and I slowly start to smile.

Crimson Legacy is the chosen female volunteer for this year's Hunger Games.

I am being forced to volunteer for this year's Hunger Games.

Once we are District partners, I can just ask her.

I smile again, and roll over onto my stomach to watch the setting sun.

Tomorrow, I have to volunteer for the Hunger Games.

And then Panem had better watch out.

Because once I'm in those Games, I will be fire.

I will be fury.

And I will come home a Victor.

* * *

 **A/N Meet District 2's tributes! Thanks to PurpleFrenchFryAmy and EllaRoseEverdeen for these great tributes!**

 **I hope you liked it, and please review!**

 **P.S. PurpleFrenchFryAmy, I hope you don't mind that I made Cris related to Jade. It's just that they have the same last name, and I thought it would be cool.**


	9. D5 Intros: Tell Your Heart to Beat Again

**A/N Hi everyone! Here's the District 5 intros!**

* * *

 **Shiela Winters, age 16**

* * *

I slip between shadows, darting in and out of alleyways.

Suddenly, I spot a crowd of people, gathered in the town square. The mayor is giving a speech today about the opening of a new power plant.

I walk casually into the crowd, slipping people wallets out of their pockets.

The crowd breaks into applause as the mayor finishes his speech, and I slip into the nearest alleyway.

I stuff the wallets into the pockets of my coat, and then I run.

I run and I run and I don't stop running until I reach my alleyway. My alleyway is in the worst part of the District. Even Peacekeepers are afraid to come here.

I collapse onto the nest made of newspapers, scraps of cloth, and bits of string, breathing hard. This nest is where my little brother and I sleep. It's not very comfortable, but it's the best we've got.

Just then, someone enters the alleyway. I stiffen at first, but then I relax when I see that it's my brother.

"Where have you been, Reese?" I ask.

In response, he grins and shows me four shiny, red apples, a loaf of bread, and a couple strips of dried meat.

I grin at him and ruffle his hair. "Nice work."

"Thanks," he says. "What did you get?"

I show him the five wallets I managed to steal.

"Cool!" he says.

Then we each grab an apple and start to eat.

My stomach stops growling once I've finished the apple.

Reese falls asleep not long after he finishes eating. I don't blame him. He's only nine years old, after all.

I lean back against the wall behind me and think about how my life got to be this way.

It's hard to believe that two years ago, I had everything I had ever wanted. I was the mayor's daughter, and my life was perfect. I had a great family, plenty of food, pretty clothes, and a beautiful house.

Then, one day, my mom and dad went to inspect a new power plant, and it exploded while they were inside.

The second I found out that Mom and Dad were dead, I took Reese and ran, because I didn't want to go to the Orphanage.

We've been living on the streets ever since.

I sigh and wriggle against the wall, trying to get more comfortable.

I try to stop thinking about my parents' deaths, but I can't.

When I found out that they were dead, it was like my heart stopped, and I couldn't breathe, I couldn't feel, I couldn't do anything but stand there, frozen.

Then, when I realized that me and Reese were going to have to go to the Orphanage, I knew I had to do something, but I couldn't do anything as long as I was grieving.

So I shoved my grief and sadness to the back of my mind, and told my heart to beat again.

I've been doing that for two years now.

I haven't let myself grieve. Actually, I haven't let myself feel much of anything.

And every morning, I wake up, and I tell my heart to beat again.

* * *

 **Carlos Albedo, age 12**

* * *

I start walking home from school, hoping that snobbish Gevenora Watt and her group won't notice me. Gevenora is the mayor's daughter, and she thinks she's better than everyone else.

Normally, no one would listen to anything she says, but she happens to have a very large older brother.

She also hates me.

I'm walking past the power plant next to my house when I hear footsteps behind me, and then someone shoves me from behind and I fall down, landing hard on my knees.

I try to get up, but my hand lands in a mud puddle, and I slip, landing flat on my face.

I hear high-pitched giggles, and then sound of running feet, and then I'm all alone.

I sigh, and sit up. My books are muddy, and so is half of my shirt. Fortunately, I don't seem to be bleeding anywhere, so that's a good thing.

I get to my feet just in time to see my sixteen-year-old cousin, Everlett Ampere, walk past.

"Letta!" I yell.

She whips her head around, her wavy, dark brown hair fanning out behind her.

"Carlos!" she yelps, walking over to me. "What happened?"

"Gevenora happened," I grumble.

Everlett sighs and helps me pick up my books, which are, amazingly, not too muddy.

"Thanks," I say with a smile.

Letta ruffles my hair. "You're welcome."

"Do you wanna come over for dinner?" I ask.

"Sorry, I can't," she says. "I'm meeting my boyfriend."

I sigh. "Fine."

"See you later, Carlos!" she yells over her shoulder as she walks away.

I sigh again, and my smile disappears.

This sort of thing has been happening more and more lately. All the people I care about are too busy to spend time with me.

I try not to mind, but sometimes it's hard.

I guess it's like getting picked on by Gevenora, though.

I've gotten used to that, and I'll get used to this too.

I just have to pick myself back up, and tell my heart to beat again.

* * *

 **A/N Meet District 5's tributes! Is it just me, or is Shiela a lot like Sierra?**

 **Anyway, thanks to IdekFanfiction and Elim9 for Shiela and Carlos!**

 **I hope you liked it, and please review!**


	10. D12 Intros: Mist on the Mountain

**A/N Hi everyone! Here's the District 12 intros!**

* * *

 **Clementine Willis, age 16**

* * *

I smile as the door to the bakery opens and a young woman walks in.

She's obviously from town, with her long, blond hair and clear blue eyes. She's carrying a large basket, which is already filled with fruit, vegetables, and other stuff.

She walks up to the counter. "I need two loaves of bread and a dozen cheese buns."

"Coming right up," I say, darting toward the shelf full of loaves of bread.

I grab two loaves, wrap them up in paper, and tie green and gold ribbons around them.

Then I pick up a paper bag and put twelve cheese buns in it, and then I hand the stuff to the woman.

"Thanks," she says. "I'm Eloise Overwhill. What's your name?"

"Clementine," I say.

"Willis or Mellark?" Eloise asks.

I smile. "Willis. All the Mellark children are boys."

"Oh," Eloise says.

"That'll be sixteen dollars," I say.

She whistles. "I swear, everything is getting more expensive by the day."

After a couple of seconds of rummaging in her purse, Eloise pulls out sixteen dollars. She puts the money on the counter, smiles at me one last time, and then walks out the door.

I sigh and run my fingers through my strawberry blond hair. I need a break.

I yank off my green and gold apron, drop it on the counter, and run outside. I know it's irresponsible, but I can't stand behind a counter all day, listening to people talk about their lives.

I just can't.

I run through town, past the Seam, and into the Meadow.

The Meadow may not be the prettiest place in the world, but it's much better than any other place in District 12, which is why I come here when I want to get away from it all.

I come here a lot.

It's late afternoon, and the sun is going down. From the Meadow, I can see the woods, green and mysterious, and I can see the Seam, filled with coal dust and dirty, olive-skinned, black-haired, gray-eyed people.

I'm glad I don't live in the Seam.

The sky is turning orange-gold and pink as the sun sinks below the horizon, and I wish I could capture this moment forever and live in it.

Unfortunately, I can't.

The sun sinks lower and lower, and the stars start to come out.

The bakery'll be closed soon.

I tear my eyes away from the sunset and look toward the coal mines. It's a shame that the mountains have been spoiled by mines and explosions and coal.

I wish I could have seen the mountains when they were just mountains, not coal mines.

Within a couple of minutes, the sun has set all the way, and a light mist is rolling in. I pluck a couple of daisies out of the ground, so that my father won't think I wasted the afternoon.

I start walking back toward town as night falls, the moon shining like living silver in the sky.

Right as I reach town, I look back toward the mountains.

In the dark, I can't see the mine entrances, so I can imagine they are not there.

Mist wreathes the mountains, like curls of translucent, white silk surrounding chunks of obsidian.

Mist on the mountain.

That has a poetic ring to it.

I smile to myself as I reach the bakery.

The door opens, and warm, yellow light spills out.

My mother waves me inside, and, right as she's about to close the door, I catch one last glimpse of the mountains.

Mother starts lecturing me about leaving my job, but I barely hear her.

It's always nice when I find something beautiful in District 12, whether it's a patch of daisies, a clear, fast-flowing stream, or mist on the mountain.

* * *

 **Samuel Blackthorn, age 16**

* * *

I take a deep breath, and knock on the door of the bakery. I know this job is risky, especially since I'm from the Seam.

If Mrs Mellark opens the door I'm dead.

I can only hope she doesn't.

I breathe a silent sigh of relief as the older Willis girl, Clementine, opens the door.

Once my initial relief passes, I fight the urge to smirk. This is too easy. Clementine Willis is dreamy, sensitive, kind, and believes that everyone is good at heart.

In other words, she's an idiot.

I smile at her. "Hello."

She blinks her large, bright blue eyes. "Hello. Can I help you?"

"Um, yes. You see...well, this is kind of embarrassing, but my family is out of money, and I was wondering, if it isn't too much trouble, if I could have some old bread?" I say, making sure to sound slightly embarrassed, but desperate.

"Oh, sure," Clementine says. "We made a little too much nut bread yesterday, do you want some of that?"

I nod eagerly, keeping a victorious smirk off my face.

Clementine darts inside and comes back with two loaves of nut bread. "Now you'd better get out of here before Mrs Mellark sees you. She hates Seam people."

"I know," I say, tucking the bread underneath my jacket.

She smiles at me. "Then go!"

I force a smile. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," she says. "Now go!"

I force a laugh, and then run off.

I walk into a nearby alleyway, where Jason, my best friend and partner in crime, is waiting for me.

He grins when he sees me. "What did you get?"

In response, I open my jacket slightly, revealing the still-warm loaves of bread underneath.

"Nice!" Jason says happily.

"Keep your voice down," I hiss.

"Sorry," he whispers.

I give him one of the loaves, and then we slip out of the alleyway.

We walk toward the Seam, being careful not to attract too much attention from the town people.

It's very early morning, and the mist hasn't burned off yet. It swirls around, hiding me from prying eyes as I make my way toward my house.

When I finally reach my house, I notice that my parents aren't home. I open the door with my key, walk inside, and put the loaf of nut bread on the table.

I look out the window, wondering if Jason made it to his house without being caught.

I hope he did.

I look out the back window toward the mist-wreathed forest. I've never had much use for pretty things, but there's something about early morning mist that makes me want to stare at it and never stop.

Slowly, I shift my gaze away from the forest, toward the meadow, and finally, up, up, up toward the mountain where the coal mines are.

The mountain is draped in mist, white and gray, like coal dust and snow.

I wish that the sun doesn't have to come up. I dislike sunshine.

I much prefer night. It's easier to sneak around when it's dark.

However, my favorite time of day is early morning, when few people are awake, and I can sneak around as much as I want to.

When the sky is gray-blue and the stars are just winking out.

When there is mist on the mountain.

* * *

 **A/N Meet District 12's tributes!**

 **I hope you liked it, and please review!**

 **P.S. I'm sorry this is so late.**


	11. D10 Intros: Believe

**A/N Hi everyone! Here's the D10 intros!**

* * *

 **Cassiopeia Veremox, age 13**

* * *

The sky and the ground blur together as I spin around, my long white skirt billowing out around me. I let out a wild, delighted laugh.

I feel weightless.

I feel free.

Finally, dizziness overtakes me and I fall to the ground, arms wrapped around myself, still giggling. This is what I love. Dancing in the fields as the sun goes down and everyone is inside.

Far away from my house and my parents and my little brother.

Sometimes, of course, I wish someone would see me dancing and wonder: _Who's that girl? She looks interesting._

But no one does, because I'm not allowed to dance in the fields when there are people around who might notice me. No, I have to keep myself hidden. Pretend to be just like everyone else when I know I'm not.

No one in my family is normal.

I wish we were. Then maybe I could actually have a life. Maybe I could be famous.

Maybe I could even win the Hunger Games.

But I can't, because my family is religious (specifically, we're Christian), and that's illegal. So we basically can't stand out _at all_. Otherwise bad things could happen, or so my parents say. Constantly.

So I'm just another nameless District 10 citizen, except that I'm not, except that I could be so much more than that.

But _nooooooooo_.

I sigh deeply and pick myself up off the ground.

I really hate my life.

As I look up at the sky and notice that the stars are coming out, I realize that I have to get home. I start walking through the fields of dry, brown-gold grass where the horses graze during the day, heading for home.

Or, as I like to call it, the tiny hut that will be too small for me and family once Mom has my baby sister. The hut has three rooms. A living room, a kitchen, and one bedroom. Me, Mom, Dad, and my little brother all share said bedroom.

There is no room for a baby sister.

Yet another reason why I hate my life.

I kick at a rock on the dirt pathway that leads to my house.

My parents and my little brother still believe that things will get better, as long as we have faith.

I don't.

I stopped believing a long time ago.

* * *

 **Lathan Oxford, age 17**

* * *

I smile at the woman on the other side of the counter. "Have a nice day!"

She gives me a weird look, grabs her package of meat, and runs out of the store. I sigh.

Sometimes it feels like I'm the only cheerful person in this District.

I probably am. I'm definitely more cheerful than that little Veremox girl who hates everything. And everyone. I'm more cheerful than any of my siblings.

So yes, I'm probably the most cheerful person in all of District 10.

Suddenly, I am snapped out of my thoughts by my brother, Jensen. He smiles at me as he ties on an apron.

"You can go now, Ox," he says. "I'll take over here."

He keeps his voice light, but I know he's replacing me because I'm driving customers away. I tend to do that.

I don't know why.

Is being cheerful such a bad thing?

Maybe. I wouldn't know.

But I do know that I'd rather be happy than sad.

So I just smile at Jensen, take off my apron, and head outside. I take a deep breath of cool, fresh air and smile. I've always preferred outdoors to indoors. I always feel too big inside, but outside...outside I can run without worrying about knocking things over.

Outside is just better.

As I walk past the alleyway next to my family's butcher shop, I pass the Martinez butcher shop. I remember that Mr Martinez's daughter died last year, in the Hunger Games.

That makes me sad. I liked Eve. She may have spent more time around birds than people, but at least she was mostly happy. Not like most people I know.

I sigh again, heading for the outskirts of town. Well, when I say town, I mean a collection of shops and small houses surrounded by ranches. My family owns one of those ranches.

We raise cows.

However, today I'm not heading for my family's ranch. I'm heading for the lake.

Most people don't know the lake exists, because it's hidden behind a thick layer of brambles. I only found it because one day I got lost and I ended up here.

I push through the brambles and come out the other side scratched but triumphant. The lake's waters glitter blue-green in the late afternoon sunlight, and I grin.

I love this place.

I spend most of the rest of the afternoon throwing rocks into the lake and chasing frogs around its edges.

Most people in District 10 might not believe that there's good and beauty left in the world. They might not believe that there's anything to be cheerful about.

But I do.

* * *

 **A/N I hope you liked it, and please review!**

 **P.S. Thanks to HungerGamesTribute12 and No-role-models for Cassiopeia and Lathan!**

 **P.S.S. I'm so sorry for how late this is.**


	12. D4 Intros: Steal My Show

**A/N Hi everyone! Here's the District 4 intros!**

* * *

 **Salinity Hoffman, age 18**

* * *

I throw my trident at the target, spinning slightly to get momentum. It hits the center of the target and sticks there, quivering.

I smirk in triumph and wipe sweat out of my eyes, before running over to the target and pulling the trident out.

"All right, Salinity, you're done for the day," Lorca, one of the trainers, says.

"Thanks," I say gratefully, giving her a smile.

She gives me a thumbs-up as I head for the showers.

I take a quick shower, the hot water smoothing all my aches and pains away, and then I get dressed in a white tank top, a pair of black pants, and a pair of light blue sandals.

Once I'm dressed, I head for home. As I walk, I hear whispers floating around me.

 _Isn't that the Hoffman girl?_

 _To bad about her brother. He had a lot of potential._

 _I heard she's going to volunteer for the Games._

 _She'll never beat Kaia._

 _Yeah, that whole family is useless._

I grit my teeth and hold my head higher, remembering what my dad always says: Never show them that they've gotten to you.

And I never do.

By the time I finally reach my house, I'm very annoyed with people in general. It's a good thing both my parents are still out on the fishing boat.

As I open the door, I hope desperately that Tide isn't home, but, of course, he is. He always is, since he doesn't have a job.

"Hey, sis," he says, giving me that annoying grin.

"Shut up," I say.

He holds up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "What's the matter with you?"

"Nothing," I say tightly.

There's a short silence, during which Tide attempts to stare me down.

"Whatever," he finally grumbles.

I breathe a silent sigh of relief and run up to my room.

Sometimes I really hate my brother. He's irresponsible, he's constantly in my way, and no matter what I do, people are always comparing me to him. Even though we could not be more different.

For example, I would never get myself kicked out of the training program for drug possession.

Not like Tide did.

I fling open my window and let the fresh sea air wash over my face, cooling my flushed cheeks. I take a deep breath and unclench my fists, feeling the anger ebb out of me.

Soon, I'll show everyone who ever compared me to Tide that I am _better_ than he is and I _always_ will be. Soon, I'll be volunteering for the Hunger Games. And soon after that, I'll be a Victor.

That'll show them.

I feel a smile spreading across my face.

My time is coming soon, and then no one's going to steal my show.

Not Kaia Steelstorm, who is the current chosen volunteer, and certainly not Tide.

 _No one_.

* * *

 **Luciel Tide, age 14**

* * *

I sigh deeply, kicking at the sand beneath my feet. I just found out that my older brother, George, is going to volunteer for the Hunger Games.

George is only sixteen, but he thinks he can win, because, last year, the boy from District 2 almost won, and he was sixteen.

I can't believe this is happening.

George is my best and only friend, and so I really don't want him to volunteer, because the Hunger Games is basically a death sentence.

Especially if he's going in alongside either Kaia Steelstorm or Salinity Hoffman, both of whom are incredible fighters. Not to mention the fact that they are both very pretty and extremely determined.

In other words, if George volunteers, he's dead.

I bury my face in my hands, trying to think of a way to stop him.

Because I can't lose him.

I can't.

The waves lap gently at my feet, cool and fresh. A tiny sand-crab scuttles past me and buries itself in the sand.

I groan, unable to think of anything. I know I can't talk him out of volunteering, since he's very stubborn, and I certainly can't talk the trainers into picking someone else, so I have no idea what to do.

And then an idea hits me with such force that it feels like a lightning bolt.

 _I_ could volunteer instead.

It's stupid and crazy, but it might be the only thing I can do.

I'm probably going to die, but I'll be saving George's life.

And who knows?

Maybe I'll even win.

So it's settled.

Tomorrow at the Reaping, I'm going to steal George's show, and save his life in the process.

He'll probably hate me, but that's fine.

I just want to save his life.

* * *

 **A/N I hope you liked it, and please review!**

 **P.S. Thanks to MessyModgePodge and BloodedInk for Salinity and Luciel!**


	13. D8 Intros: Tired of Fighting

**A/N Hi everyone! Here's the District 8 intros!**

* * *

 **Calico Tailor, age 13**

* * *

A girl of about five is flicking one of the craft displaying outside my family's store, and it's making me mad. However, her mother looks kind of interested in the store, so I have to keep my mouth shut.

I sigh and lean on the counter, hoping desperately that this woman will come in and freaking _buy something already_.

She bites her lip, brushing her chestnut curls out of her face, and then she grabs the five-year-old by the hand and walks off.

I groan loudly.

Normally, the craft store is fairly popular, but, with Reaping Day coming up, people are much more cautious about literally everything. It makes me want to scream sometimes, because _buying a flipping bobble-head is not going to increase your chances of being reaped, idiot!_

Unfortunately for me, I'm not allowed to say that kind of thing to customers. So I just have to violently think it.

Just then, the little bell on the door rings, and I arrange my face into a smile.

"Hello, welcome to Tailor Crafts, I'm Calico and...oh, it's just you," I say, dropping my smile as I realize that it's just my friend Sash.

"Just me?" Sash says. "I'm offended."

"No you're not," I say with a sigh.

"Fine," Sash says. "How's it going?"

"Slow," I say.

Sash laughs, jumping over the counter and standing next to me. "Well, then, how about we liven things up a bit?"

"We're not putting booby traps all over the store, Sash," I say.

"You're no fun," Sash says, pouting.

"I am, too," I say, shoving Sash's shoulder.

"All right, all right," Sash says with a laugh. Then her face becomes more serious. "You sure you can't get off work early? I mean, you know what's happening tonight, and we could really use you."

I feel my throat start to close up with fear. "No. Not a chance. And I still think you're crazy for doing it."

Sash sighs, but drops the subject, which I'm grateful for.

I really wish Sash and her other friends would stop putting up graffiti all over the District, but no matter what I say I can't get them to stop. I'm _sure_ they're going to get caught by Peacekeepers one of these days, and I really don't want to see any of my friends get whipped.

"I'm gonna go now," Sash says after several minutes. "See you tomorrow."

"See you," I say as she leaves.

As soon as she's gone, I rest my forehead against the cool metal of the counter, groaning.

I'm so tired of fighting Sash over stupid things like graffiti.

I'm tired of fighting my parents over my friendship with Sash.

I'm just tired of fighting in general.

But I know if I stop fighting, I'll probably be worse off than I am now.

* * *

 **Tyler Stiles, age 17**

* * *

I wipe sweat off my forehead as I push the last cart across my dad's textile factory. Then I hand the cart off to another person who will dump the load of cloth inside the cart onto the conveyor belt.

My older brother, Vincent, claps me on the shoulder as I walk past him on the way to the bathrooms, and I smile at him. Inside the bathrooms, I wash my face off and dry it with a towel, and then I walk out the back entrance and head for home.

One of the advantages of being the owner of the factory's son is that as soon as I'm done with work, I can head home. I don't have to wait for quitting time.

My house isn't far from the factory, so, after about ten minutes of walking, I walk up the pathway to the front door of my house. I have to open the door myself because my mother is still at work. She's a teacher.

Once I'm inside the house, I immediately head for the shower, since I'm rather sweaty.

I take a very short shower because we don't have a lot of hot water and I know that Vincent is going to want to take a shower as well, and then I change into some fresh clothes.

As I walk downstairs to get something to eat, I hear the door open, and then Mom walks into the kitchen.

"Hi, Mom," I say.

"Hey, Tyler," she says, pulling her bag off her shoulder and putting on the kitchen counter. "How was your day?"

"Not bad," I say. "Vincent should be home soon. He was almost finished when I left."

"Oh, good," Mom says. "Then I guess I'll get started on dinner."

Mom shoos me out of the kitchen, so I go sit in the living room and read the newspaper. My family is one of the few in the District that can afford a newspaper, and I intend to make the most of it.

Pretty soon, Vincent arrives and immediately goes upstairs to take a shower.

I can smell the delicious scent of real bread coming from the kitchen, mixed with the smells of cooking beef and vegetables.

I smile to myself.

My parents fought hard to get the wealth we have, and I'll be forever grateful for that.

Now, it's mine and Vincent's turn to fight for our livelihood.

No matter how tired we get of it.

That's how it always has been.

And that's how it always will be.

* * *

 **A/N I hope you liked it, and please review!**

 **P.S. Thanks to PurpleFrenchFryAmy and Greywolf44 for Calico and Tyler!**


	14. D3 Intros: When Things Were Broken

**A/N Hi everyone! Here's the District 3 intros!**

* * *

 **Perona Destins, age 12**

* * *

I quietly turn the page of the book I'm reading, hungrily devouring the words. The library is peaceful, something that is quite rare in District 3, with all the technology and factories.

I like peace and quiet. I get a lot of it, being deaf in my right ear.

I glance around the library, remembering the day that half of it went up in flames and I lost my hearing in my right ear. Later, I heard that the fire had been set as part of an ill-advised rebel demonstration.

Most people don't understand why I still come back here, given what happened to me, but I don't think I have anything to worry about. The rebels are dead, after all.

There is no one to start any fires.

I close the book and carefully place it back on the shelf. I've already read that particular book on mechanics several times. It still fascinates me.

I don't understand why my parents insist on buying me fairy stories. There is no place for fairy stories in the world we live in. I know that, so I don't understand why my parents refuse to accept it.

I shake my head to clear it and start walking out of the library. I give Ms Pickett, the librarian, a small wave as I leave. She smiles at me briefly before going back to her work.

Ms Pickett and I get along well. She doesn't disturb me while I'm reading, and I don't disturb her while she's working. For most people, that would not count as a friendship, but to us, it works.

My house is not far from the library, so it only takes me about five minutes to get there. I open the door with spare key hidden in the windowsill and slip inside.

No one is home, not at this time of day. They're all still working in the factories.

I should feel lucky that I don't have to work, but instead, I eagerly await the day that I can. I dislike doing nothing.

People say I'm a bit strange. They say I should play with other children, and enjoy my childhood.

I say that, as soon as you turn twelve years old, you are no longer a child. After all, twelve is the age at which you are eligible to participate in a death match.

Children do not participate in death matches. Therefore, at twelve, people in the Districts are no longer children.

I walk upstairs to my room and sit down on my bed. My room is rather obnoxiously colorful: my mother says that it will make me more cheerful. So far, that theory has been proven wrong.

I get up off my bed and walk over to my window. I stare out over the gray streets and gray buildings, watching two Peacekeepers beat up a factory worker.

My parents like to pretend everything is all right by closing my curtains when they're home and keeping me far away from Peacekeepers.

I know better, though.

I know that things are broken.

I know that Mother is broken, I know that Father is broken, and I know that my older sister, Jalina, is breaking.

Most of all, though, I know that I am broken.

It's all right, though, because everything in this District, from the mayor to the homeless people, is broken.

So we're all on the same level.

There's a kind of satisfaction that comes with knowing that.

* * *

 **Cyber Bishop, age 15**

* * *

I sit on the hard, concrete floor of my family's garage, weaving wires together.

Two of the wires spark and I bite my lip to keep from yelping. I can't make any noise, since it's after midnight and I'm not supposed to be out here.

Eventually, I'm finished braiding the coil of wire. I tie off the end and tuck the coil underneath one of the trash bins, making sure it's out of sight. Then I get stiffly to my feet and check my watch.

2 o'clock in the morning. That means I'll get about three hours of sleep before I have to leave for the factory.

I sigh. Oh, well. I've made do with less sleep.

I slip silently into the house, tiptoeing past Dad, who is passed out on the couch, clutching a bottle of foul-smelling white alcohol. I wrinkle my nose as I walk past him.

Then I sprint up the stairs, being careful not to step on the squeaky stair, and dart into the room I share with Sean. Fortunately for me, he's asleep. So all I have to do is slip into bed and no one will ever know that I spent the last two hours working on my secret project.

I crawl into my bed and curl up under the covers, feeling very glad that I had the presence of mind to put on my pyjamas before I went out to the garage.

I close my eyes and try to get to sleep, but I can't. My stomach is filled with nervous butterflies. I know the source of my nervousness, of course. Reaping Day is only three days away.

Then, with a jolt, I remember that it's 2 o'clock in the morning. Technically, Reaping Day is now only two days away.

I sigh silently to myself and bury my face in my pillow, trying to get my mind off of Reaping Day.

So, naturally, I start thinking about the other giant problem in my life: my drunk father.

My father, who started drinking right after I was born because my mother died in childbirth. My father, who blames me for Mom's death.

Sean likes to say that Dad broke when Mom died.

He says that Dad's broken and he's breaking.

He also likes to say that pretty much everything in this whole District is broken.

I'm not sure if he includes me in that assessment.

I'm not sure I want to know.

* * *

 **A/N I hope you liked it, and please review!**

 **P.S. Thanks to ICanShowYouPanem and The Fire Blossom for Perona and Cyber!**


	15. Reaping Recap

**A/N Hi everyone! Here's the Reaping recap! Next is the train rides! Yay!**

* * *

 **Rani Glyniss, age 28**

 **Gamemaker**

* * *

I take a sip of my champagne and smile at Mr Crane. All the Gamemakers have a party this time of year, but I've never been invited before.

Suddenly, the whole room goes quiet, and everyone turns and looks at the television, where the pretty, blond, District 1 escort is reaching into the girls' reaping bowl.

"Our female tribute this year is...Carina Ivory!" she squeals.

A girl with dark golden hair slips out of the sixteen-year-old girls' section and smiles at the cameras. However, she barely makes it halfway to the stage before another girl, this one from the eighteen-year-old girls' section, comes sprinting forward.

"I volunteer as tribute!" she yells, voice shaking slightly.

The escort, whose name escapes me at the moment, grins. "A volunteer! How lovely! What's your name, darling?"

"Andromida Nyx Lede," the volunteer says.

"Lovely!" the escort says joyfully. "Now for our boy."

The escort practically skips over to the boys' reaping bowl, her towering mountain of blond her wobbling with every step.

"Cooper Romina!" she calls.

Before whoever Cooper Romina is can even move, a tall blond boy steps out of the eighteen-year-old boys' section.

"I volunteer," he says calmly, and I see several of the women around me leaning forward with interest.

I roll my eyes.

The escort beams. "Hello! What's your name, then?"

"Quentin Ferro," the boy says.

The escort grins at the cameras. "There you have it, ladies and gentlemen! Andromida Nyx Lede and Quentin Ferro, your tributes for the 71st Annual Hunger Games!"

The crowd roars with approval as the two tributes shake hands.

I notice that the girl, Andromida, seems slightly nervous, whereas the boy, Quentin, looks...not quite calm, but resigned.

I smile to myself.

Looks like District 1 has a couple of interesting ones this year.

* * *

 **Cerena Heavensbee, age 19**

 **Daughter of Plutarch Heavensbee**

* * *

I sigh, fiddling with my blond curls and glancing around the room. When my best friend, Shannara, convinced me to come over to her place to watch the Reapings, I had not expected her to throw an entire party.

Shannara bounds over to me, her breath smelling strongly of alcohol. "District 2's coming up! Come on an' watch!"

"All right," I yell over the loud music, following her over to the couch.

Shannara shoves two boys out of the way and plops down on the floor right in front of the television screen. She grins at me and pats the spot of floor next to her.

I roll my eyes and sit down.

Another one of my friends, Luscinia, cheers as the escort, Aquamarine Lockheart, walks onstage.

"I _so_ want that outfit," Shannara whispers loudly in my ear.

"The one the escort's wearing?" I ask, shoving her away from my face.

She nods.

"Great," I say.

"Shhhh," Phox Crane, Seneca Crane's son, says loudly. "She's picking the tributes!"

I look back at the television screen and see Aquamarine with her hand in the girls' reaping bowl, a huge smile on her face.

"And our gorgeous girl this year is...Evanna Steele!" she says.

"I volunteer as tribute!" yells a voice, and everyone around me cheers.

A pretty, ginger-haired girl walks out of the seventeen-year-old girls' section a large (but obviously fake) smile on her face.

"What's your name, dear?" Aquamarine asks.

"Crimson Legacy," the girl says.

All my friends cheer again.

"Well, then, now for our male tribute," Aquamarine says happily, skipping over to the boys' reaping bowl. "Jonalin De Amire!"

Luscinia and Shannara gasp, because the De Amires star in their favorite reality TV show. I wince. They'll be heartbroken if he dies.

"I volunteer as tribute!" yells a voice, and Luscinia and Shannara breathe sighs of relief.

Of course, they both shriek with horror as the realize that the volunteer is, in fact, the older De Amire boy. Carlisle, I think his name is.

"What's your name, handsome?" Aquamarine asks, batting her eyelashes.

"Carlisle De Amire," he says.

Aquamarine raises one turquoise eyebrow. "I'll bet my shoes that was your little brother, hmmm? How heroic!"

Carlisle looks like he's barely restraining himself from rolling his eyes, but he just nods.

The escort looks at the cameras. "District 2, I give you your tributes: Crimson Legacy and Carlisle De Amire!"

The crowd, and all my friends, cheer loudly and joyfully.

I roll my eyes.

I've never understood what people like so much about the Hunger Games.

But I suppose I can pretend to like them.

After all, it's not for much longer.

* * *

 **Aliah Snow, age 7**

 **Granddaughter of President Snow**

* * *

I bounce up and down in my seat. "Can we turn on the TV now, Mommy?"

"I thought we were going to wait for Grandpa!" my older sister, Willa, says.

"Your grandpa can't make it tonight," Mommy says. "So I suppose we can start without him."

"Yay!" I say gleefully, sliding out of my chair and running toward the couch.

I claim the spot in the middle of the couch, Willa takes the left side, and Mommy takes the right side, holding my baby brother Evan in her lap.

The TV turns on just as the District 3 escort, Remy Oberman, is reaching into the girls' reaping bowl. I lean forward excitedly.

This is the first time Mommy's let me watch the Hunger Games, and I don't intend to miss a second of it.

"Perona Destins!" Remy yells, sounding as excited as I'm feeling.

A loud scream comes from the twelve-year-old girls' section, and I frown. Whoever this Perona girl is should be excited! I pout unhappily as I see her crying as she walks up to the stage.

Remy Oberman clears his throat. "Now for the boy!"

He reaches around in the boys' reaping ball for several minutes, long enough for me to start squirming with impatience. Finally, he pulls out a slip of paper.

"Cyber Bishop!" he yells.

There's a long silence, and then a boy comes out of the fifteen-year-old boys' section. He doesn't show any emotion as he walks up to the stage, and the escort looks rather relieved, seeing as Perona is still crying.

"District 3, I give your tributes: Perona Destins and Cyber Bishop!" Remy yells, and then Mommy turns off the TV.

"Mommy!" I yell.

"Time for bed, Ali," Mommy says. "I'll record the rest of the Reapings for you, and you can watch them tomorrow, okay?"

I sigh. "Fine."

"Good girl," Mommy says.

I get up off the couch and give one last longing look toward the TV, and then I head to my room.

I can't wait until the Hunger Games actually start.

* * *

 **Levina Bevelle, age 23**

 **Gamemaker**

* * *

Instead of joining the regular Gamemakers' party this year, I decided to go to my friend Mavis's engagement party.

We've been watching the Reapings.

I fight the urge to bounce up and down in my seat with joy as the District 4 escort reaches into the girls' reaping bowl. District 4's tributes are my absolute favorites, every year, and so I can't wait to see who they come up with this year.

"Sandrea Steelstorm!" the escort yells.

"I volunteer as tribute!" screams two voices from the eighteen-year-old girls' section.

I lean forward in my seat, wondering eagerly which girl will get to the stage first. As I watch, two beautiful girls, one of whom looks very much like the girl onstage, sprint out of the eighteen-year-old girls' section.

However, the taller, blond one is faster, so she reaches the stage first. She pumps her fist, letting out an excited cry.

"Well, well, well," the escort says, pink corkscrew curls bobbing. "What's your name?"

"Salinity Hoffman," the girl says. "And I'm here to make my District proud."

The other girl huffs unhappily and returns to her section.

The escort smiles happily. "What a lot of excitement! Now to pick the boy!"

The escort walks over to the boys' reaping bowl, grinning, and reaches in. "Paul Moray!"

"I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE!" a voice yells, so loudly, that, if anyone else had been trying to volunteer, they would've been drowned out.

The escort grins. "Someone's certainly eager! And what's your name?"

The boy, who came out of the fourteen-year-old boys' section, smiles. "I'm Luciel Tide."

"Welcome, Luciel!" the escort says. Then she turns and looks at the cameras. "There you have it! Salinity Hoffman and Luciel Tide, your tributes for the 71st Annual Hunger Games!"

I smile widely. A fourteen-year-old volunteer and an eighteen-year-old who's probably as deadly as she is pretty.

District 4 really never disappoints me.

* * *

 **Istalia Carroway, age 17**

 **Gamemaker Intern**

* * *

I lean back against the back of the armchair I'm sitting in. I'm lucky that my daddy's a Gamemaker, otherwise I never would have gotten into this totally _awesome_ party.

Technically, it's only supposed to be for Gamemakers, but since I'm an intern as well as the daughter of a Gamemaker, Daddy got me in.

My eyes are fixed on the television screen as I watch the new District 5 escort, Shylee Everhart. She's quite pretty, with her waves of dark red hair and soft hazel eyes, but personally, I think she looks a bit drab.

I mean, her outfit looks almost like something from the _Districts_ , of all things.

My musings on Shylee's outfit are interrupted as she reaches into the girls' reaping bowl. I lean forward with excitement. Last year's District 5 girl was _spectacular_ , so _violent_ and _thrilling_. I'm hoping that this year's girl will measure up to her.

"Shiela Winters!" Shylee yells, and my hopes are dashed.

The girl who is slowly walking up to the stage could not look more different from Sierra. Her clothes are patched but clean (well, clean-ish), and she has an obviously forced look of boredom on her face.

She's not even very pretty, with her blond curls in a rough ponytail and those two weird freckles on her neck.

"Hello, Shiela!" Shylee chirps. "Anything to say?"

"I hope I can make my District proud," Shiela says quietly.

Shylee grins widely and skips over to the boys' reaping bowl. "Carlos Albedo!"

The twelve-year-old boys' section parts around a small boy with large, brown eyes, tanned skin, and dark brown hair. He looks like a terrified puppy.

I snort into my brilliant purple drink. Bloodbath. Definitely.

After several minutes, two Peacekeepers come and drag Carlos up to the stage, where he stands, trembling and blinking back tears.

Poor District 5.

Looks like they'll be stuck without a Victor..

Again.

* * *

 **Chloris "Lori" Crane, age 13**

 **Daughter of Seneca Crane**

* * *

With my older brother, Phox, out at a party, my dad also at a party, and Mom already asleep, I have the whole house to myself. Which means I can watch the Reapings all by myself, without anyone whispering annoying commentary in my ear the whole time.

I stuff a handful of caramel popcorn into my mouth, my eyes fixed on the TV screen, where the District 6 escort is reaching into the boys' reaping bowl. Apparently she's decided to switch things up a bit.

I bite my lip, trying to remember the escort's name. Aefa Bronald. That's it. I mainly remember her because she's been escorting longer than I've been alive.

"Egan Alice!" Aefa yells, and I lean forward in my seat.

The thirteen-year-old boys' section parts around a small red-haired boy with pale skin and lots of freckles. He glances around, looking slightly panicked, before sighing and making his way to the stage.

He looks like he's about to cry.

Aefa smiles at him. "Anything to say?"

"No," he whispers.

The escort smiles again and pats him on the shoulder before skipping over to the girls' reaping bowl. "Maia Morrigan!"

To my amazement, as the girl steps out of the fifteen-year-old girls' section, all the other children start _smiling_. There's even one small girl in the twelve-year-old girls' section who laughs out loud. Only two people actually look concerned that she's been Reaped: a boy in the seventeen-year-old boys' section and a girl in the sixteen-year-old girls' section.

Maia has absolutely no emotion on her face as she walks up to the stage. She simply gives Aefa a bored look when she asks her if she has anything to say, and then she just stands still, hands jammed in the pockets of her leather jacket.

I find myself leaning even further forward in my seat, brushing a lock of pink hair out of my eyes.

This girl intrigues me.

Why does everyone hate her so much?

What's her story?

I'm definitely watching _her_ interview, that's for sure.

Of course, I don't have a lot of time to find out stuff about her.

Because, likely as not, by this time next year, she'll be dead.

* * *

 **Mitzi Glyniss, age 22**

 **Hunger Games Stylist Assistant**

* * *

Kara, Leto, and I are sitting on Leto's couch as we watch the Reapings. I'm very anxious to see District 12's tributes, because I'll be helping to style them again this year.

At the moment, however, I'm watching the District 7 escort, Cobalt Heron, fish around in the girls' reaping bowl.

"Come on already!" Kara yells at the TV. "Pick someone!"

Leto shushes her as Cobalt finally picks a slip of paper.

"Camille Laureline!" he calls.

A hysterical laugh rises up from the sixteen-year-old girls' section, and a fairly small girl steps out, tears streaming down her cheeks. She swipes furiously at her eyes and giggles again.

"Hi," she says into the microphone once she reaches the stage. "I'm Camille, but call me Cammy. Or don't, I suppose it doesn't matter now."

Cobalt wrenches the microphone back from Camille and clears his throat. "Yes, anyway, now for the male tribute."

He quickly grabs the first piece of paper he can reach and runs back to the microphone. "Cedar Lee!"

The fifteen-year-old boys' section parts around a very short boy with olive skin and green/blue eyes. His eyes widen and he lets go of another boy's hand and slowly makes his way up to the stage, trembling.

He manages to give Camille a strained half-smile, which she returns.

I wonder if they're friends.

"There you have it, folks!" Cobalt says. "Camille Laureline and Cedar Lee, your tributes for the 71st Annual Hunger Games!"

No one applauds.

I'm not surprised.

They never do.

* * *

 **Zanzia "Zany" Ferrian, age 17**

 **Capitol Citizen**

* * *

"This is boring," my little brother, Kleon, says. "I wanna watch the Reapings!"

I look up from the board game me and Kleon are playing with a sigh. "Are you sure this time? Because ten minutes ago you really wanted to play this game."

"Yes!" Kleon says, grabbing my hand and dragging me over to the couch. "Come on, come on, come on!"

I sigh again, rubbing my temples. Babysitting my hyperactive eight-year-old brother is no picnic.

"All right, I'm working on it," I say, grabbing the remote.

I turn on the TV and see District 8's escort, Ellabelle Tuchi, reaching into the girls' reaping bowl.

"Calico Tailor!" she calls, a large smile on her face.

There's a moment of silence, and then a very short blond girl walks out of the thirteen-year-old girls' section, head held high.

"Anything to say to your District, Calico?" Ellabelle asks.

Calico swallows. "Um...I just want to say that I hope if I come back, you'll all see me as something more than just the girl from the craft store."

Ellabelle grins wider. "How touching! Now to pick Calico's District partner!"

She walks over to the boys' reaping bowl as fast as she can, wobbling dangerously in her extremely high heels.

"Tyler Stiles!" she yells.

A boy steps out of the eighteen-year-old boys' section, looking fairly calm. He walks silently up to the stage and shakes his head when Ellabelle asks if he has anything to say.

I'm kind of impressed. Most tributes are crying or yelling, but these two are as calm as can be.

Ellabelle looks pretty pleased with her tributes as well.

"There you have it, ladies and gentlemen! District 8's tributes for the 71st Annual Hunger Games: Calico Tailor and Tyler Stiles!" she says, arms spread wide.

Then Kleon turns off the TV and starts begging to go back to the board game. I laugh and agree.

As my little brother drags me back over to the kitchen counter, I smile to myself.

I can't wait for the Games to begin.

And who knows?

Maybe one of the District 8 tributes will win.

* * *

 **Verity Levi, age 20**

 **Avox**

* * *

I lean back against the wall of the Gamemaking room with a sigh. All the Gamemakers have left already, the party's over, and now it's up to the Avoxes to clean up their mess.

Like always.

They've left the TV on, of course, and, as I take a break from scrubbing drink spills off the floor, I stare at the strange, black-clad, District 9 escort. He's reaching into the girls' reaping bowl, ready to chose a child to die.

Good for him.

I brush a strand of my dark brown hair behind my ear, keeping my royal blue eyes fixed on the television screen.

"Zerine Sunlie!" the escort calls.

A scream rises up from the fifteen-year-old girls' section, and then a thin girl with stick-straight black hair is tearing through the crowd, trying to run away. I wince in sympathy, because I know she won't make it far.

Sure enough, two Peacekeepers immediately chase after her, grabbing her upper arms and dragging her to the stage. She glares out at the audience, black fury radiating off her in such waves that the escort inches nervously away from her.

I feel a tiny smile tugging at my lips. She's got spunk.

Then my smile disappears as I remember that the last District 9 girl had spunk, too. But her spunk didn't save her from death at the hands of one of those terrifying mutts.

The escort swallows hard and then fairly sprints over to the boys' reaping bowl, grabbing the first slip of paper he touches.

"James Miller!" he yells, voice cracking a bit at the end.

The eighteen-year-old boys' section parts around a tall boy with dark brown hair and brown eyes. I see a flash of nervousness in his eyes before he covers it up with a mask of calm and starts walking.

The escort seems relieved that he's not glaring or trembling with suppressed rage (like Zerine is). He asks James if he has anything to say.

"I'll try to make it home, I really will, but if I don't...well, good-bye, I guess," he says, and my heart cracks just a little bit more.

The escort quickly ends the Reaping after that with the usual "these are your tributes" speech, and I sigh, bending down to continue washing the floor.

I can't wait until the rebellion starts.

Then all these kids will be free.

Then _I'll_ be free.

* * *

 **Hedone Tiaar, age 32**

 **Capitol Citizen**

* * *

"Mom! District 10's coming up!" my daughter, Mallory, yells. "Come and watch!"

"All right, all right," I say with a laugh, picking up my tray of freshly made cookies and walking over to the couch.

"Yay! Cookies!" my son, Draco, says joyfully. "Thanks, Mom!"

"You're welcome," I say.

"Shh!" Mallory says.

I look over at the television, where District 10's escort is reaching into the girls' reaping bowl. One thing I like about this escort is that she doesn't waste any time. She always grabs the first slip of paper she touches.

"Cassiopeia Veremox!" the escort yells.

The thirteen-year-old girls' section parts around a very pale girl with light purple eyes. She's actually smiling as she makes her way up to the stage, but once she's on the stage her face twists with terror and she shrieks at the top of her lungs.

The poor escort nearly leaps off the stage.

"Ahem," she says, once Cassiopeia stops screaming. "Now for the boy tribute."

She scurries over to the boys' reaping bowl and grabs a slip of paper.

"Lathan Oxford!" she calls.

There's a long moment of silence, and then someone from the seventeen-year-old boys' section starts screaming. He's very tall, so the Peacekeepers have a bit of trouble getting him onstage, but they manage it in the end.

He's still screaming even once they get him onstage.

The escort has to yell at the top of her lungs to be heard of Lathan's screams and Cassiopeia's wails, but she ends the Reaping. After that, I turn the TV off.

Mallory groans. "What was that for?"

"Your little brother doesn't need to see this," I say sternly. "You can watch the rest of the Reapings in your room."

Mallory huffs and leaves, heading up to her room.

I sigh softly.

To be perfectly honest, I don't like the Hunger Games much.

Not that I'd ever say that.

* * *

 **Iridessa Fiora, age 23**

 **Capitol Citizen**

* * *

I take a large gulp of my drink, staring at the small television in one corner of this bar.

The District 11 escort is taking absolutely forever to pick a tribute, and most of the people in this bar (including me) are getting impatient.

"Hurry up, lady!" I yell, pounding my fist on the counter.

"Yeah!" yells a young man next to me, his electric blue curls falling in his eyes.

Finally, the escort pulls a slip of paper out of the girls' reaping bowl.

"Willow Thresher!" she calls loudly.

I cheer as the eighteen-year-old girls' section parts around a fairly pretty girl with long brown curls and golden-brown eyes. She looks panicked for the briefest of instants before quickly masking the panic with calm.

She walks up to the stage calmly, and shakes her head when the escort asks her if she has anything to say. Then she stands very still, eyes a bit glassy with tears.

I roll my eyes.

The escort, once again, takes forever to pick the boy tribute. In fact, she takes so long that I get through two more drinks before she finally pulls a slip of paper out of the boys' reaping ball.

"Raphael Sylvan!" she yells.

No one moves. It's so quiet that you could hear a pin drop.

After about three minutes, I groan loudly. "Drag the kid up to the stage!"

"Yeah, come on already!" someone yells.

Finally two Peacekeepers walk into the fourteen-year-old boys' section, where they drag out a small boy with black hair and brown eyes. He's shivering slightly, and his eyes are darting around the crowd, as if hoping someone will volunteer.

No one does.

Once he's on the stage, the escort concludes the Reaping.

I roll my eyes again and take another swig of my drink.

I kind of can't wait until the Reapings are over.

After all, twenty-three of these kids'll be dead in a couple of weeks.

* * *

 **Joya Maren, age 29**

 **Gamemaker**

* * *

The Gamemakers' party is long over, but I'm still watching the Reapings. After all, a good Gamemaker needs to know the tributes that will be in the arena she helped design.

I snuggle deeper into my blankets, taking a large bite of ice cream as District 12's escort, Effie Trinket, reaches into the girls' reaping bowl. I lean forward slightly, trying to get closer to the TV.

"Clementine Willis!" Effie calls, a bright smile on her blue-painted lips.

The sixteen-year-old girls' section parts around a baffled-looking girl with strawberry blond hair and blue eyes. She stands stock-still for a moment before walking slowly up to the stage, blinking tears out of her eyes.

I snort to myself. Looks like she's not as much of a spitfire as last year's District 12 girl.

Effie beams brightly at Clementine. "Anything to say, dear?"

Clementine shakes her head mutely.

Of course, Effie's enormous smile doesn't drop for a moment. "All righty, then! Now to pick our handsome boy!"

She reaches into the boys' reaping bowl and plucks out a slip of paper.

"Samuel Blackthorn!"

A tall, dark-haired, green-eyed boy walks out of the sixteen-year-old boys' section. He looks calm enough, but his hands are shaking.

I notice that Clementine's eyes are very wide as she looks at Samuel, and I wonder if they know each other.

"Anything to say?" Effie asks as Samuel reaches the stage.

"Nope," he says, brushing past her.

Effie huffs a tiny bit, but then she pastes her smile back on. "Well, there you have it, ladies and gentlemen! Samuel Blackthorn and Clementine Willis, you're tributes for the 71st Annual Hunger Games!"

I smile softly to myself as I turn off the television.

Let the Hunger Games begin.

* * *

 **A/N I hope you liked it, and please review!**


	16. Train Rides: In the Lap of Luxury

**A/N Hi everyone! Here's the first part of the train rides!**

* * *

 **Quentin Ferro, age 18**

 **District 1 Male**

* * *

As soon as we're done saying our good-byes, Andromida and I are rushed into a car and driven to the train station. I take a deep breath, trying to force my father's last words to me out of my head.

 _"You'd better make me proud."_

In an attempt to distract myself, I glance over at Andromida, who looks a little bit sick. I wonder if she's nervous.

A couple of minutes later, the car pulls up in front of the train station, and then we all get out. The escort, Mimi, is chattering excitedly about the Capitol and how much Andromida and I will love it.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes.

Once we're on the train, I'm astounded by how luxurious it is. Everything is either crystal or silk or highly polished mahogany. I'm just about to head over to the buffet table when a door opens and our mentors come in.

I recognize them both, of course, Esmeralda Crystalline and Jerrick Luster. Both are on my father's list of favorite Victors.

"Hi," Andromida says.

"Hello," Esmeralda says. "I assume you both know who we are?"

"Yes," Andromida says.

I nod.

"Good," Jerrick says. "Now, maybe we should...are you all right?"

I follow Jerrick's gaze to Andromida, who looks very pale and sweaty.

"Um, I think-" she starts to say, and then she claps her hand over her mouth and sprints for the bathroom.

"All right, then," Esmeralda says. "I suppose we'll wait on making our strategy until she's, uh, done."

Nearly ten minutes later, Andromida comes out of the bathroom, wiping her mouth. "Sorry about that."

"It's fine," Jerrick says. "Now, your names are Andromida Nyx Lede and Quentin Ferro, right?"

"Yes," I say.

Andromida nods.

"Do you want to watch the Reapings?" Esmeralda asks.

"No," Andromida says. "I think I'm gonna lie down. I don't want to throw up again."

"All right," Jerrick says. "Quentin? Do you want to watch the Reapings?"

"No," I say, getting to my feet.

"Fine," Jerrick says. "But we do need to make a strategy before we get to the Capitol."

"All right," I say before walking out of the dining compartment.

I stop in front of the door labeled 'D1 Female', wondering if I should check on Andromida before going to my room. After a moment, I knock on the door.

"Come in," Andromida says.

I walk inside and see Andromida sitting on her bed, propped up by several pillows.

"Hey," I say, feeling a bit awkward. "How are you doing?"

"A little better," she says.

"Good," I say. "That's good."

"Thanks for asking," she says, giving me a brilliant smile.

I feel my cheeks heat up a bit. "You're welcome."

After several minutes of silence, I clear my throat. "Well, see you later, then."

"See you later," Andromida says.

I back quickly out of her room, shutting the door behind behind me. I swallow hard, still fighting back a blush.

I really hope I'm not the one who has to kill my District partner.

* * *

 **Crimson Legacy, age 17**

 **District 2 Female**

* * *

I sit on a silky couch in front of a television, squashed between Carlisle and my mentor, Ravenna Ludwig. We are watching the Reapings.

On the TV, I watch a pretty girl from District 7 simultaneously laughing and crying as she walks up to the stage. Starting to feel bored, I glance around the room, my gaze falling on the table of treats near the couch.

"I'll be right back," I say, getting to my feet.

The only response I get is Ravenna grunting at me. I roll my eyes.

I walk over to the treat table and pick up a pastry, the scent of strawberries filling my nose. I lean against the back of the couch and take a bite of the pastry just as the Reapings end.

"Well," Carlisle says. "I'm glad that's over."

His mentor, Kronos Clayton, looks offended. "Watching the Reapings is essential for making our strategy!"

"No offense, but I think I can make a strategy just fine without watching a bunch of people crying onstage for about three hours," Carlisle replies.

I cover my mouth with one hand to stifle the giggles threatening to escape.

Kronos sputters indignantly, seemingly unable to get actual words out. After several minutes, Ravenna, shaking her head, stands up and puts her hand on Kronos's shoulder.

"Come on, Kro," she says. "How about we get you something to drink?"

As she leads the still-sputtering Kronos out of the room, she shoots Carlisle and I look that says 'please try to get something done while I'm gone'.

"Well, that was fun," Carlisle says as soon as the mentors are gone.

"You're a little weird," I say.

He shrugs. "That may be, but I could see you trying not to laugh back there."

"And what if I was?" I say, smiling slightly.

"You think I'm funny," he says.

"Well, you're certainly funnier than the boy who was supposed to be my District partner," I say.

"Devon Stonesmith, right?" Carlisle says.

"Yeah," I say. "He had about as much personality as a rock."

"Joy," Carlisle says sarcastically.

I smirk, grabbing another pastry off the table and taking a bite.

This is going to be more fun than I thought.

* * *

 **Cyber Bishop, age 15**

 **District 3 Male**

* * *

I've been sitting in my room with my head in my hands for the past two hours. A couple of people have knocked on my door, but I haven't let any of them in.

They seem to have given up now.

Everything is very quiet.

I assume Perona is off making a strategy with both of the mentors, but I can't really find it within myself to care.

I'm going to be in the Hunger Games.

In the _Hunger Games_.

I'm literally going to die.

A couple of days ago, if someone had told me that my life was about to get worse, I'd have laughed in their face and said that my life could not possibly get any worse. I know better now.

Things will _always_ find a way of getting worse.

I stare at the glittering ring on my finger, watching the fading sunlight playing on the woven wires. I wish my brother was here.

No, wait. No I don't. Because if my brother was here, that would mean that he was going into the Hunger Games, too. And that's the last thing I want.

Suddenly feeling restless, I get to my feet and walk over to the window. The sun is starting to set by now, washing the landscape in gold and red. Everything has a strange, ethereal quality to it, and, somehow, it makes me feel a little better.

Like there's still beauty in the world, in spite of things like the Hunger Games.

And maybe, if there's beauty, there's still hope.

Maybe.

* * *

 **Salinity Hoffman, age 18**

 **District 4 Female**

* * *

I stand in the shower, feeling the warm running water smoothing all my anxieties away. Salty-smelling, pale-blue bubbles float around me, sometimes colliding with my skin and bursting, which makes my skin smell like salt.

Like I've been swimming in the sea.

I inhale the scent of crisp mint as I scrub my hair with one of the many provided bottles of shampoo. I know that the stylists will probably just do this again once we get to the Capitol, but there's no harm in being extra clean.

After all, I need to make sure my image is flawless. I will not allow my older brother's failures to follow me into the Hunger Games.

This is my chance to shine.

A few minutes later, I shut off the water and walk out of the shower, wrapping myself in one of the ridiculously plush towels. Then I place my hand on a large silver box, which sends a tingly electric current through my hair, drying and straightening it so it falls in silky waves down my back.

I smirk to myself.

Perfect.

Then I walk over to my closet and type in the kind of outfit I want on the pad. I smile to myself as I open the closet to see a flowing turquoise dress with a fashionably low v-neck and a pair of low-heeled sandals. I put on the clothes, and then I swirl my hair up into a bun at the nape of my neck.

On my way out of my room, I stop and check my reflection.

Excellent. Sexy, but not overly so. Confident and dangerous? Oh, yes.

As I walk into the dining car, I appreciate how far Luciel's jaw drops when he sees me.

Finnick Odair, Luciel's mentor, whistles. "You clean up nice."

"Thanks," I say, taking a seat at the dinner table. "We talking strategy?"

Syrene McShea, my mentor, smiles and nods, flashing me a pleased expression. I'm not sure whether that's for my outfit or my comment.

Doesn't matter.

From here on out, _every_ move I make _must_ be calculated.

I can't afford mistakes.

At least, not until the Games are done.

* * *

 **Carlos Albedo, age 12**

 **District 5 Male**

* * *

I'm in bed, but I can't sleep.

Even though my stomach is full, and I don't have to worry about that math test I had tomorrow, I still can't sleep.

I miss Everlett, even though she spends more time with her boyfriend than she does with me.

I miss Mitchell, even though I _never_ see him anymore.

I miss Brianne, with her soft smile and the way she ruffles my hair.

I _really_ miss Mom and Dad.

I sigh, sniffing and trying to hold back tears. I know I probably won't survive these Games, so I really wish I could have had more time with my family and friends before I ended up here.

I reach over to the table next to my bed and pick up my token: the cigarette Mitchell gave me. I was really surprised that he came to say good-bye to me, because I thought he was trying to sever ties with me and my family for good.

I guess I was wrong.

I roll the cigarette in between my fingers, wondering why Mitchell thought this would be a good token. I'm not going to question it too much, though. It reminds me of my brother.

That's good enough for me.

I put the cigarette back on the table and roll over.

I'm asleep within seconds.

* * *

 **Maia Morrigan, age 15**

 **District 6 Female**

* * *

The sun is just starting to rise, and I've been awake for hours. I can't sleep. Normally, by the time I go to bed, I'm so drunk I just pass out, but apparently tributes aren't allowed to have alcohol, so I had a really hard time going to sleep last night.

And I woke up really early.

Being sober sucks.

I stare out the giant glass window of the train, watching the world blur past. I remember the escort (whose name I didn't bother to learn) telling me and Egan that we'd be at the Capitol around lunch-time.

So that means it'll be another couple of hours before I get off this super-speedy tin can. Joy.

I turn away from the window and plop myself down on the super-plush couch. The escort said it was made of velvet.

Like I care.

I wonder briefly if I should take a shower, since I'm still in my Reaping outfit, but then I decide that if I'm going to get all _styled_ or whatever once we get to the Capitol, then I don't need to bother.

Just then, an Avox walks into the room, pushing a cart piled high with breakfast foods. She raises one eyebrow at the sight of me, but doesn't acknowledge me beyond that. Instead, she simply goes about her business.

I can't say that's not a relief. I'm extremely sick and tired of people talking to me.

A few minutes later, the Avox girl is gone, leaving behind a rather delicious-smelling feast. My stomach growls.

I glance around the room, wondering if I'm supposed to start eating without everyone there. Then I decide I don't care.

What more can they do to me? I'm already going into a freaking death match.

I grab a plate and load it with bacon, eggs, pancakes, toast with jam, and flaky pastries filled with chocolate and cream. Then I fill a glass with the only beverage I recognize: milk.

I bring all my food over to the window, where I sit down on the window-seat and balance the plate on my lap.

If I'm gonna die, I figure I might as well enjoy the food and the view while it lasts.

* * *

 **Cedar Lee, age 15**

 **District 7 Male**

* * *

I sit at the breakfast table, trying to ignore Camille eating pretty much everything in sight. She says that she needs to build up her strength, but somehow I doubt that eating four different types of pastries in one go is going to help her in the Games very much.

The escort, Cobalt, is staring at Camille like she's some kind of slug, and neither of the mentors are helping much. Avalon Arbors, Camille's mentor, is quietly spiking her coffee with what appears to be some kind of alcohol, and Rick Grover, my mentor, is absentmindedly drawing something in his sketchbook.

He spends a lot of time doing that.

I sigh, taking a small bite of my scrambled eggs and wondering what the Capitol will be like. According to Cobalt, it's great. However, when he said that Avalon snorted so loudly that Cobalt thought she'd inhaled one of the grapes she was eating.

Last night really was an eventful evening.

"Oh my gosh, Rick," Avalon suddenly says. "Stop tapping!"

Rick looks up in surprise, blinking slowly. "Huh?"

"Stop. Tapping. Your. Pencil!" Avalon yells.

"All right," Rick says placidly.

Then he resumes sketching.

Avalon rolls her eyes and gets up from the table. "OK, kiddies. I'm gonna go take a nap. Wake me up when we get there."

Cobalt gives her a disapproving look. She ignores him.

I sigh again.

With mentors like these, it'll be a miracle if either me or Camille comes out alive.

I doubt either of us would survive anyway, but one can hope.

* * *

 **Calico Tailor, age 13**

 **District 8 Female**

* * *

My life sucks.

First, I get Reaped for the Hunger Games.

Then, I end up on the World's Most Luxurious Train, where an escort spends about four hours warning me and my District partner not to touch anything.

After that, I try to take a shower, only to discover that the button I hit on the shower apparently causes me to be doused in pink foam, which is then followed by alternating freezing-cold and boiling-hot jets of water blasting me. And once I finally make it out of the shower, I get my scalp electrocuted because 'the hair-drying box wasn't calibrated right'.

Then I try to get some sleep, but I can't because I missed dinner due to the Shower Disaster and I'm really hungry, so I get up to find something to eat, and then I get the wits scared out of me by a passing Avox.

So far, the only good thing about this trip has been the food.

The food is great.

I lean my head back against the back of the couch and groan. "Are we there yet?"

"No," the escort replies.

"Arghhhh," I snarl.

"Calm down," Tyler says.

"Shut up," I say, mimicking his tone of voice.

He sighs and resumes staring broodingly out the window.

I roll my eyes. No one here is any fun.

Of course, if it weren't for my intense desire to _not_ flip out about the upcoming Hunger Games, I'd probably be just as depressed and brooding-y as Tyler. However, I intend to simply try to make as big a mark on Panem in my last few weeks alive.

Because, honestly? I'm thirteen. I'm not making out of this thing alive.

Period.

The end.

Roll credits.

* * *

 **James Miller, age 18**

 **District 9 Male**

* * *

I'm tapping my foot with nervousness, and Zerine is shooting daggers at me with her eyes.

"Stop that," she hisses.

"Sorry," I say.

A couple seconds later, I start tapping my fingers on the table.

"Oh my gosh, are you incapable of sitting still?!" she asks after several seconds.

"I'm nervous," I say.

"Yeah, and I need a drink," she snaps.

I sigh, folding my hands in my lap in an attempt to stop tapping. "You know there's water right over -"

"Not that kind of drink," she interrupts, giving me a disgusted glance. "The _alcohol_ kind of drink. Ever heard of it?"

"Um, yes?" I say.

"That was a rhetorical question, you..." she says, trailing off.

"You what?" I ask.

"I'm trying to think of insult, so shut up," Zerine replies.

"Fine," I say.

Several minutes later, Zerine claps her hands. "Dunderhead!"

"What?" I say, confused.

"I thought of an insult," she says. "I would have thought of one quicker, but without alcohol my brain just seems to work _so_ slow."

I open my mouth to say that makes no sense, but then I think better of it and close my mouth.

It's almost a relief when Kiko, our escort, finally comes in, having just woken up.

Being alone with Zerine is extremely awkward, seeing as we're most likely going to be trying to kill each other in a couple of weeks.

* * *

 **Cassiopeia Veremox, age 13**

 **District 10 Female**

* * *

I'm going to either cry or pass out.

The escort just said we'll be at the Capitol in an hour.

 _One hour_.

Then I'm going to get prettied up and paraded around the city, before being thrown into the wilderness known as training, and then I'll be thrown into what is most likely an _actual_ wilderness for a death match!

I hate everything. Particularly Capitolians.

Lathan is being infuriatingly calm. I wonder if it'd make me feel better if I threw something at him.

Probably not. And anyway, he'll _definitely_ be dead in a like a week, so why should I bother throwing something at him?

Wow, I'm getting real depressed.

Or am I just being realistic?

Not even I'm sure anymore.

I get to my feet and start pacing around feverishly, wondering if there's some way I could make the train break down so we'd be stuck here for a couple days. Actually, that probably wouldn't work anyway. We're only an hour away, so maybe they'd just make us walk.

I wonder if Lathan would still be smiling then.

Probably. He's optimistic like that.

Finally getting tired of pacing, I sit back down on the couch, my legs swinging. It annoys me that my legs can't even touch the ground when I sit on this couch.

Are all Capitolians freakishly tall or something?

I take a deep breath, trying to calm down.

I'll be fine.

Right?

I have to be.

* * *

 **Raphael Sylvan, age 14**

 **District 11 Male**

* * *

My nervous energy is back in full force, so much so that I'm having a hard time standing still. Willow glares at me, her eyes slightly red, whether with anger or sadness, I can't tell.

The train is pulling into the station, and there are thousands upon thousands of Capitolians out there. All of them look completely bizarre, although some more than others.

And they're all cheering for me and Willow.

Even though I know they're probably just eager to see us die, I can't help but feel a little better. At they're happy to see us.

I wave hesitantly, and the cheering doubles.

Willow scowls at me. "Why are you waving?"

"I want sponsors," I reply simply.

Willow sighs, and then nods grudgingly. She doesn't wave, though.

At least she isn't scowling quite so much.

As the train finally slows to a stop and the doors slide open, I continue waving and smiling as much as I can. Then the escort, Rubyanna, has one hand on my shoulder and the other on Willow's (in spite of the fact that Willow's nearly as tall as she is), and she's steering outside into the crowd.

A wave of sound nearly knocks me over the second I step out of the train. The cheering is ten times louder out here than it was in there, and I think I might go deaf if I have to listen to it for too long.

Willow's eyes widen slightly, and she looks like she'd like to get back on the train, but Rubyanna hand tightens on both of our shoulders and then we're walking.

My face starts to go numb from smiling so much and my wrist starts to ache from waving, but it's worth it to see the looks on the Capitolians faces. Like maybe I'm a tribute they want to sponsor.

Like maybe I have a chance.

* * *

 **Clementine Willis, age 16**

 **District 12 Female**

* * *

As Samuel and I walk up the building where we will be styled, I can't help but feel apprehension welling up in my throat. But I can't show weakness.

Not in front of Effie, or Samuel, or anyone.

So I just concentrate on walking.

Once we reach the entrance to the building, two attendants, one for me and one for Samuel, arrive and take us off Effie's hands. Effie bids us a cheery good-bye before running off to check on our mentors.

I turn and give my attendant a nervous smile. "Hi."

"Hi!" she squeals. "I'm Marine! I'm going to be taking you up to your prep team, OK?"

"All right," I say.

"Great!" Marine says. "Follow me!"

I can't help but smile as I follow Marine's brilliant turquoise hair through the door. She seems to be nearly skipping with happiness, and that happiness is infectious.

A couple of minutes later, we arrive at a large glass box inside a glass tube.

"This is an elevator," Marine says, noticing my confused look. "We have to get in it."

The elevator doors slide open, and I hesitantly step inside, followed by Marine. She presses a button with a large gold number 13 on it, and then she turns and looks at me.

"We're going to the 13th floor," she explains. "We were just on the first floor, which is where all the tributes enter. The District 1 tributes are styled on the 2nd floor, the District 2 tributes are styled on the 3rd floor, and so on."

I nod, still feeling slightly overwhelmed.

"Oh, and you'll _love_ your stylist," Marine continues. "Did you watch the Chariot Rides last year? Well, if you did, do you remember the District 12 girl's outfit? Yeah, he designed that."

I nod and smile as Marine continues to talk, but all the while wondering whether I'll make a good impression, or whether my outfit will be any good, and whether my stylist will like me or not.

It's almost a relief when the elevator makes a pleasant _dinging_ noise, signally that we've arrived.

"OK, this is where I leave you," Marine says cheerfully. "Have fun!"

I give her a weak thumbs-up and then step out of the elevator, taking a deep breath.

Here goes...everything.

* * *

 **A/N Whew! That was a long chapter!**

 **Anyway, I hope you liked it, and please review!**


	17. Stylists: Make Me Glow

**A/N Hi everyone! Here's the stylist chapter! Next up is the chariot rides!**

* * *

 **Andromida Nyx Lede, age 18**

 **District 1 Female**

* * *

As I walk out of the elevator, I am greeted by three very sparkly people: two women and a man. The man has bright purple hair that is pulled back in a ponytail and acid-green eyes. The first woman is tall and slim, with ebony-dark skin, white-gold hair, and fiery golden eyes. The second woman is fairly petite, with moon-pale skin, striking violet eyes, and hair like a raven's wing.

"Hello," the golden-eyed woman says. "My name is Aayali. This is Revan, and she's Helena."

"Hi," I say, feeling rather awkward.

Helena grins at me. "Well, then, shall we get you prettied up for your Capitol debut?"

I laugh, and follow the three of them into a room that seems to be made entirely of polished metal and pristine marble. Revan walks over to what I assume is a bathtub, even though it looks more like the swimming pools at the training center back home. He starts to fill it with water and soap, and I realize that it's probably for me.

"That's the biggest bathtub I've ever seen," I mutter to myself.

"Really?" Helena asks.

"Be quiet, Lena," Aayali says. "She's from the Districts, remember?"

I feel my cheeks heat up just a bit at her words, but I don't say anything.

After all, they probably don't know any better.

* * *

 **Carlisle De Amire, age 18**

 **District 2 Male**

* * *

I really hate my prep team. Of _course_ I would get the prep team that was made up entirely of girls who enjoy ogling me.

Of _course_.

Their names are Larina, Ricki, and Aerie (which I know because they've each told me their names a thousand times), and they all dress in the _most_ outrageous ways possible. Larina has dark pink hair up in spikes with a black diamond nose-piercing and smoky make-up, while Ricki has emerald green ringlets with eyelashes encrusted with emeralds and gold flecks and the heaviest-looking jewelry I've ever seen. Aerie has waist-length, rainbow-colored hair with sparkly gold skin and color-changing eyes.

Larina has her hands buried in my hair, scrubbing it with some kind of cinnamon-smelling soap. Ricki is chattering while she rubs gritty lotion on my shoulders, and Aerie is nowhere to be seen.

I shudder to think what she's doing.

I really hope my stylist is a man. Or, if they're a woman, I hope she at least has the decency not to ogle.

Although I sort of doubt it.

I hope Crimson has a better prep team.

Wait.

What?

Since when do I care about Crimson?

I shake my head to clear it, and Larina squeaks.

"Stop that! You're getting me all covered in bubbles!" she says.

"Sorry," I mutter, not at all meaning it.

Larina doesn't seem to notice.

Idiot.

* * *

 **Perona Destins, age 12**

 **District 3 Female**

* * *

I feel stiff and awkward as I lie on a table, trying to block out the chatter of my prep team. I don't have much body hair yet, which I imagine is a mercy, because my team is viciously ripping out any hair they can find.

"You're awfully skinny," Hermia, the youngest of my prep team and the only girl, says.

In response, I blink at her.

"That's not nice, Mia," Fabian, the leader of the prep team, says. "And anyway, I think it makes her look cute, with those green eyes and that dark hair."

"Oh, yes," Cassian, the third member of my prep team, chirps. "And just wait until Vega gets her hands on her!"

"Who is Vega?" I pipe up.

"Your stylist!" Hermia says, deep blue eyes widening. "Didn't you know?"

"No," I say.

The three of them exchange astonished looks. I fight the urge to roll my eyes, because that would not fit with the angle of sweet little girl that I'm trying to play.

Even though I don't think I've ever been sweet in my life. Maybe before the fire I was, but no longer.

Oh, well.

This is just a part I have to play.

At least, until the Games begin.

My prep team resumes their crusade to rid my body of hair, and I close my eyes.

Maybe this is not so bad.

* * *

 **Luciel Tide, age 14**

 **District 4 Male**

* * *

This is the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to me.

I'm pretty sure the Games can't possible be worse than this.

I wonder if Capitol people go through this a lot.

"Why do you think he's looking like that?" one of my prep team asks.

"Heck if I know," another one replies. "He seems kind of weird, though."

"Stop it, you two," a third voice says.

I don't despise her. She's the leader (I think), and she's the least...bubble-brained out of all of them.

She just gets the job done.

I might even ask for her name if I weren't in a state of acute mortification.

"He's really still," one of them suddenly says. "Do you think he's asleep?"

"Stop talking about him like he's not here!" the leader says, exasperation coloring her voice. "And for the love of all things sparkly and stylish, will you _please just work_!"

I stifle a laugh. I'd actually kind of admire that sentence if it weren't for the 'sparkly and stylish' comment.

That's just another reminder that these people are about as far-removed from my life as it is possible to be.

That these are the people who would have cheered at George's death.

I can literally feel my heart freezing over at that thought.

* * *

 **Shiela Winters, age 16**

 **District 5 Female**

* * *

After what feels like days of being "prepped", Yevigina, the leader of my prep team, stuffs a silky robe into my hands and shoves me through a door, which, of course, closes behind me.

I slip the robe on, delighting in the feeling of its softness on my skin, and look around the room. It looks a great deal like the room I just left, except without all the beauty products, and there's a huge window that takes up one entire wall. I walk over to it and press my hand against the glass.

I can see the whole Capitol from up here.

Glittering lights, candy-bright colors, buzzing energy, and all.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" a rather high-pitched but distinctly masculine voice says from behind me.

I whirl around and see a rather short man with feathery white hair, wide golden eyes, and pale skin marked with lavender tattoos standing there, a contemplative look on his face.

"Hello," he says. "I'm Albie Broker. Your stylist."

He gives a rather exaggerated bow that makes me giggle in spite of myself.

"I'm Shiela," I say, waving awkwardly.

"I know," Albie replies, looking me up and down.

I don't blush, though, like I might have back home. I've been looked at like this enough today that I barely even notice it.

Then, abruptly, Albie smiles broadly. "Yes, you'll do nicely."

"For what?" I ask, feeling confused.

"Don't worry," Albie says. "You'll love it."

He winks, and I laugh, although I'm still confused.

* * *

 **Egan Alice, age 13**

 **District 6 Male**

* * *

My stylist is pretty nice. Her name is Tiara, which I still think is a little weird, but she's nice all the same.

As soon as I stepped into this room, with its huge window and the cushy chairs lying around, she bounded up to me like an excited dog. She kind of reminds of a dog in a lot of ways.

Maybe a chihuahua, since she's so short.

"Hey, kid, you still with me?"

I blink, focusing back on my stylist. "I'm fine. Just thinking."

"Well, don't just stand there," Tiara says, smirking. "Come on and sit down. I'll order us something to eat."

I sit down without complaint. I'm very hungry.

Tiara taps on an electronic pad attached to the arm of her chair, and, a couple minutes later, the table between us opens up to reveal a delicious-looking meal.

There's a hot, steaming plate of pink-fleshed fish, a plate of some kind of green...something, a bowl of rice, and several small bowls of what looks like pickled vegetables.

"What's this?" I ask, pointing to the green stuff.

"Seaweed," Tiara says.

"You can eat it?" I ask.

"Yup," she says. "You put the rice and fish and pickles in the seaweed, and then you wrap it up and eat it. OK?"

I nod, and she smiles, showing off her pearly teeth.

Feeling a bit confused but willing to try it anyway, I pick a piece of seaweed, scoop a blob of rice onto it, place a slice of fish carefully on top of the rice, and then add two strips of pickled cucumber.

Then I wrap all up. The seaweed tears a bit, but I take a bite of it anyway.

"Yum," I say with my mouth full.

Tiara beams.

* * *

 **Camille Laureline, age 16**

 **District 7 Female**

* * *

"You'll look just stunning!" Jeweliette, my stylist, chirps delightedly.

"Can I open my eyes yet?" I ask.

"No," Jeweliette replies.

I sigh, shifting restlessly.

"How about now?"

" _No_."

I huff, trying to imagine things to take my mind off the waiting. I think about Cedar, and the fact that he's probably doing the exact same thing I am (but he's probably less bored). I think about last year's costumes, I think they were some kind of woodland fairies. Jeweli (as I've been calling her in my head) designed those, too.

"Can you tell me what the costume is?" I ask.

"Definitely not. That would ruin the surprise!" Jeweliette says easily.

I imagine her sweeping a lock of her turquoise-light blue-dark blue striped hair behind one ear as she works. I know she does this because I've seen her do it about twenty times in the forty-five minutes I've known her.

"This is boring," I moan, shuffling my feet.

Jeweliette pokes me with a pin. "Stop moving."

"I hate you," I mutter.

She chuckles, attaching something weird-feeling to my ear.

"What's that?" I ask.

"You'll see!" she giggles.

* * *

 **Tyler Stiles, age 17**

 **District 8 Male**

* * *

My costume is very uncomfortable. However, my stylist, Lonnie, has been getting praise heaped upon him by my prep team, so I'm hopeful that the Capitolians will like it.

And then maybe I'll get some sponsors.

"Stop frowning!" Shaelee, my stylist's intern, says. "The Chariot Rides are coming! You'll be seen by all of Panem!"

"I know," I say.

"Then smile!" Shaelee says.

I manage a slight smile at her perkiness. She cheers.

"How are you feeling?" Lonnie asks, walking over to me and Shae.

I don't like my stylist much. I get the feeling he just wants to be promoted to a better District. Which is probably why he's been working so hard on this outfit. According my prep team, he's barely left his office in three weeks.

My response to this was something along the lines of 'well, hooray for Lonnie'.

That response still stands.

When I don't answer his question, Lonnie claps me on the shoulder. "You'll do fine, don't worry."

I nod, suddenly feeling slightly nervous.

I take a deep breath.

I'll be fine.

I'll be fine.

I glance at Shae, and she gives me two thumbs-up, and then she traces her finger along her mouth.

 _Smile._

I take another deep breath, and work up a smile as Lonnie presses the button for the elevator.

* * *

 **Zerine Sunlie, age 15**

 **District 9 Female**

* * *

I'm not quite sure what to do as the elevator makes its slow descent down to the place-where-the-chariots-are. Looking out the glass walls makes me feel sick, and I feel awkward just standing here.

Plus the train of my costume is caught on something in the corner of elevator.

That's just perfect.

After what feels like hours, the elevator finally slows to a stop and the door open. I yank my train free and step out into the sunlight.

The sight that meets my eyes is astounding.

There are twelve chariots, twenty-four horses, and twenty-four tributes, plus several stylists and escorts and mentors, down here. The horses are whinnying and stomping their hooves, the people are chattering, and all the noise is enough to make me want a drink.

Badly.

"Hey," a voice says from behind me, and I whirl around.

"Miller!" I yelp. "What the heck do you think you're doing?"

"Sorry," Miller says, holding his hands up. "And I told you, call me James."

"No," I say.

He sighs. "Come on. I'll take you to our chariot. My stylist is having fits."

"Your stylist came down here?" I ask.

"Yeah," he says. "Didn't yours?"

"No," I reply shortly.

Not like I care. Stupid Cranissa Berry and her stupid name and her stupid job.

A rather handsome man is standing next to a woven, wicker-basket-looking chariot, tapping his foot furiously. "James! There you are!"

"Hi, Samir," Miller says.

"Good, you're here," Samir says, turning to me. "Now both of you, please, _stay put_. I have to go find Cranissa. Why wouldn't she come down here?"

He walks off, still chattering to himself.

So he seems _great_.

Not crazy at all.

I lean back against the side of the wicker chariot and watch the rest of the frenzied tributes and stylists run around.

Let them run.

I'm not gonna trip over myself to please _anyone_.

* * *

 **Lathan Oxford, age 17**

 **District 10 Male**

* * *

This is fun.

The chariots and the costumes and the horses and all the other people running around...if I could describe it in one word, it would be fun. If could a couple other words, they would be exciting, and exhilarating, and _awesome_.

My District partner doesn't seem to be having as much fun as I am, though.

She looks pretty much just angry at everything.

I think that's her default expression.

I smile to myself as I meet the eyes of the District 9 girl. She glares, but my smile doesn't falter.

After a couple of seconds, she breaks the eye contact in favor of staring daggers at the pair from District 7, who are chattering with each other. They look almost relaxed.

That's always nice to see.

I continue to look around this room, taking in the sight of all my fellow tributes in their costumes.

The pair from District 2 look quite intimidating, as always, and I've never seen anyone as beautiful as the District 1 girl. She almost seems to glow, with her blonde hair and light skin.

The girl from District 3 is twirling the end of her ponytail around her finger with a bored expression on her face while her District partner fidgets and his stylist tells him to stop moving.

The boy from District 4 stares up at his taller partner, but she doesn't look at him. She's got a faraway, dreamy look on her face like she's already imagining herself the Victor.

The boy from District 5 hugs himself tightly, while his partner looks on with a sad expression, like she wants to help but doesn't know how.

The girl from District 6 grumbles about needing a smoke while her partner chatters nervously with his stylist. The stylist smiles at him, putting her hands on his shoulders even though she's just barely taller than he is.

The girl from District 7 and her partner are still talking, the girl seems to be telling jokes while the boy laughs.

The pair from District 8 appear to be scoping out the competition. The girl has a strangely intense look on her face, while the boy's attention keeps drifting.

The girl from District 9 is steadfastly ignoring her partner, like how Cassiopeia is ignoring me. I wonder if the boy minds.

The pair from District 11 are having a quiet, but intense conversation, quiet enough that I can't hear it.

The girl from District 12 is quietly trying to get her partner to talk to her, but he's having none of it. She finally gives up, a hurt look on her face while his face may as well be made of stone.

I think, under different circumstances, I'd like to get to know a lot of these people.

* * *

 **Willow Thresher, age 18**

 **District 11 Female**

* * *

"I just don't want any allies," I say, softly but firmly. "Sorry."

Raphael turns his head away, looking slightly betrayed, but not entirely surprised.

I exhale slowly, glad that conversation is over.

Suddenly, I feel someone's hand on my shoulder, and I wheel around.

"Oh," I say, recognizing the familiar strawberry-blond pixie-cut of my stylist, Evanlyn.

"You OK?" she asks.

"Fine," I say, squaring my shoulders.

She smirks. "Good. Cause it's wild out there."

I laugh softly. "Can't be worse than the Games will be, right?"

"You got that right," Evanlyn replies.

"All right, all right," Raphael's stylist, Lolli Pop (which is the worst name ever, but she doesn't even seem to realize that she's named after a candy), says, sounding harried. "Get on the chariot, it's almost time!"

I swallow hard, and then climb on the flower-draped chariot, Raphael beside me.

"Knock 'em dead," Evanlyn says.

"Remember, be charming!" Lolli adds.

"We get it," I say. "Right, Raphael?"

He nods, gripping the chariot railing tightly.

Here goes nothing.

* * *

 **Samuel Blackthorn, age 16**

 **District 12 Male**

* * *

I close my eyes, inhaling and exhaling.

I can't afford to panic.

Not now.

Any minute, I'll have to go into my act.

I tune out Dinalee and Chrys re-explaining how to work our costumes to Clementine, focusing on preparing myself to play a role.

Just like how I conned Clementine out of that bread back home in District 12, this crowd of Capitolians is just waiting to be charmed by me.

And soon, District 12 will have another Victor.

Inhale. Exhale.

I hear Clementine breathing loudly in my ear.

Inhale. Exhale.

The trumpets sound.

Inhale. Exhale.

I hear the clatter of chariots starting to move.

Inhale. Exhale.

I open my eyes.

Let the 71st Annual Hunger Games begin.

* * *

 **A/N I hope you liked it, and please review!**


	18. Chariot Rides: Kings and Queens

**A/N Hi everyone! Here's the chariot rides!**

* * *

 **Cerena Heavensbee, age 19**

 **Daughter of Plutarch Heavensbee**

* * *

I squish myself in between Shannara and Luscinia, clutching two ice cream cones.

"OK, who wanted the cheesecake-and-strawberry cone?" I ask.

"That was mine," Luscinia says.

I hand her the already half-melted cone, and then I hand the other cone to Shannara.

Just then, the trumpets sound, and my all three of us sit up straighter in our seats. The polished, mahogany wood doors swing open, and the chariot rides begin.

As usual, the first ones out are the District 1 tributes. Nara and Lu both shriek with glee at the sight of the gorgeous white horses, with their manes braided with diamonds.

The girl tribute, Andromida, is wearing a beautiful, palest blue gown with a silvery-white train. The whole dress is embroidered with glimmering silver snowflakes, and she's draped in white furs lined with diamonds. Her blonde hair is braided on one side and she's wearing a silver-and-diamond tiara. She's wearing dramatic, pale makeup, with her cheekbones highlighted so sharply they look like shards of glass. Her lips are painted palest pink with a flick of mascara on her eyelashes.

The boy, Quentin, has on a a palest blue shirt with silvery-white pants and tall, white boots. He's draped in a white fur cape with a large, silver crown studded with diamonds. His hair is gelled up in spikes, and he's also wearing pale, dramatic makeup, but minus the mascara, eyeshadow, and lip gloss.

Lu and Nara sigh with delight over him, and even I have to admit that he's pretty handsome.

Next comes District 2, with their slate-gray horses dusted with what looks like dull, gray glitter. This style of decoration is quickly explained by the tributes, who are both dressed in matching, gray bodysuits that extend from their necks to their ankles. The parts of them that are not covered by the bodysuits are painted gray.

They are statues.

The girl's hair is pulled up in a bun, and the frizzy curls are dusted with gray and black glitter.

The boy's hair is dusted in the same stuff.

Luscinia and Shannara both get to their feet, applauding furiously and blowing kisses. Shannara throws a rose at Carlisle, which he catches with a wink.

I'm pretty sure Nara's going to faint.

Next is the District 3 tributes, their chariot pulled by dapple gray horses with their manes threaded with green wires.

The girl, a tiny little twelve-year-old, is wearing a black skater dress crisscrossed with green wires, like the motherboard of a computer. Her hair is two long braids, also woven with green wires. She's got on a pair of black ballet flats, and her lips are painted the same shade of green as the wires. She, unlike the first two pairs of tributes, is not waving at the crowd.

The boy is wearing a similar outfit, except his is a black shirt and pants that are crisscrossed with the green wires. His hair is not woven with wires (he would have looked pretty weird with wires in his hair). He's also wearing black and green boots.

He's smiling awkwardly at the crowd, looking exceedingly nervous.

Shannara and Luscinia lean forward with excitement as District 4 comes out, their chariot pulled by blue roan horses with pearls and coral bits braided in their manes.

The girl, a tall, sleek, golden-haired beauty, is dressed as a siren, with two seashells (and nothing else) for a top, and tight, sleek, scale-patterned, blue, turquoise, and green skirt. Her hair is left loose and sleek around her shoulders, held back from her face with dozens of small pearls. Her eyes are surrounded with vibrant blue and green eyeshadow with gold glitter on her cheeks, and her lips are painted rich scarlet.

She's smiling seductively and waving elegantly.

Next to her, the boy looks rather awkward in his billowy white shirt, tight black paints, and feathery, three-cornered hat. He's also got on an eyepatch.

I smother a snort at the furious look on his face. He knows he looks ridiculous.

"I'd sponsor her," Luscinia says, pointing approvingly to the District 4 girl.

I shrug. "You know you don't enough money to sponsor,."

"Yeah, but if I could, I'd probably pick her," Lu says.

I roll my eyes.

Just then, Shannara shushes us. "Here comes District 5!"

District 5's chariot is pulled by sleek, white-maned golden horses, which strikes me as a weird color for District 5, until I see their costumes.

The girl is wearing a thigh-length, white-blue-yellow dress that seems to crackle with electricity, sparking and glowing, with white tights and tall, white-blue-yellow boots. Her hair is up in a high ponytail with white eyeshadow and velvety golden lipstick.

The boy is wearing an identical outfit, except his is a bodysuit, and he doesn't have eyeshadow or lipstick. He looks a bit nervous, but he's still waving.

"I _love_ that dress," Shannara says.

"I liked the District 1 girl's outfit better," Luscinia says.

"Shhh!" I say. "District 6 is coming!"

District 6's chariot is pulled by a pair of cherry roan horses with black stripes painted down their sides. The tributes are both wearing matching blue and red striped bodysuits with sleek black helmets.

"They're racecar drivers!" I yell joyously.

"Cool!" Luscinia shrieks.

I grab a bundle of daises from my bag and fling it at the tributes. The smaller one, the boy, catches it and waves in my direction.

Shannara grabs my arm with delight. "He waved at you!"

"He's thirteen!" I yelp.

"I know, but still!" she says.

Next is District 7, their chariot pulled by a pair of chocolate brown horses with white-gold manes and tails woven with leaves and vines.

The girl is wearing an ankle-length, dark green dress with brown leather chest armor and a brown leather belt. She has tall, red-brown leather boots, and her dark, curly hair is pulled back from her face in an elaborate braided style. She has a bow and quiver slung on her back, and she has something on her ears that makes them look pointed.

The boy has a green shirt and pants with the same armor and belt as the girl, and the same boots. He's got on hair extensions that are braided in a similar style to the girl. He also has the pointed ears and the bow and quiver.

"What are they supposed to be?" Shannara asks.

"Elves," I reply. "Don't you ever read pre-Panem books?"

"Nope," Luscinia chirps.

I sigh.

District 8 comes next, in a chariot pulled by spotted horses. The tributes are both wearing kimonos woven of brightly colored thread. The girl has a woven thread flower tucked behind her ear, and they're both wearing leather sandals. She's also got bright, colorful makeup on, complete with bright red lipstick.

They're both waving and smiling at the crowd. I toss them a couple of wrapped candies, but I aim wrong and they bounce off the front of the chariot.

Next is District 9, their chariot pulled by a pair of caramel-and-cream paints with wheat braided in their manes and tails.

The girl is wearing a long, white dress with a crown of wheat on her head and a golden, snake-shaped belt around her waist. She has a golden scythe in her hand, and her eyes are rimmed with white and gold eyeshadow and silky maroon lipstick.

The boy has on a sort of white toga with a matching crown of wheat and a golden, snake-shaped belt around his waist. He also has a golden scythe in his hand, but he is not wearing eyeshadow or lipstick.

"They look cool," Shannara says.

"Yeah, they look like something out of mythology," Luscinia adds.

I smile and toss a couple of roses in their direction. The girl catches one of the roses and tucks it into her wheat crown.

I laugh, clapping my hands. Times like these, I sometimes forget that these kids will be in a death match in a couple of days.

District 10 comes out next, their chariot pulled by a pair of tan roan horses with no extra adornments.

The girl tribute, a small thirteen-year-old, is dressed as a shepherdess, with a tan dress and a curved stick and her pale hair braided down her back. She has no makeup on, and her feet are covered by leather sandals.

The boy, on the other hand, is dressed as a sheep. Woolly costume and everything. Surprisingly enough, he doesn't look furious or embarrassed about his stylist's choice of costume. He's waving and smiling brightly.

I throw him a daisy for his bravery.

Next is District 11, their chariot pulled by a pair of pink roan horses with flowers braided in their manes and tails.

The girl tribute is wearing a green, long-sleeved, knee-length, pale-pink-flower-covered dress with green leather sandals. Her hair is curled and threaded with flowers. She's wearing pale pink eyeshadow and lipstick of the same shade and a flick of mascara on her eyelashes.

The boy is wearing a green shirt and pants with little bunches of pale-pink flowers placed here and there with dark brown boots. He, of course, is not wearing any makeup, but he does have a pink flower crown on his head.

They're both waving and smiling, but they look kind of stiff. As if they've recently had a fight.

Shannara tosses gold coins at them, looking delighted. The boy catches one of them, looking just as delighted as Nara.

And finally, District 12 comes out, their chariot pulled by coal-black horses with no extra adornment.

Both tributes are wearing black bodysuits with polished black stone belts around their waists. They're both wearing tall black boots, and the girl has on dark, smoky makeup and dark purple lipstick.

Suddenly, in perfect in unison, the pair of them press something on their belts, and a wave of coal-black glitter fans out behind them like a peacock's tail.

The whole audience surges to their feet, clapping furiously and throwing flowers and coins and candy.

I laugh delightedly, tossing what's left of my bag of flowers and candy at the tributes.

Shannara jumps up and down, laughing and clapping her hands like five-year-old girl who had just gotten a pony.

Luscinia shrieks with glee waving her hands in the air and throwing flowers.

These Games are going to be absolutely _unforgettable_.

* * *

 **A/N I hope you liked it, and please review!**


	19. Training Day 1: Expect the Unexpected

**A/N Hi everyone! Here's the first training day!**

* * *

 **Perona Destins, age 12**

 **District 3 Female**

* * *

I wake up to a beam of sunlight in my face and the feeling of silky sheets. I kick myself free of the sheets and blankets and climb out of bed.

The floor is warmer than I expected, being hardwood.

I notice an outfit laid out on the armchair next to my bed: a black tank top and black pants with a dark gray-and-green striped jacket. I slip the clothes on and then I pull my hair back into a ponytail to keep it out of my face.

Then I quietly pad downstairs to see only the escort at the table. He gives me a wide smile that might seem intimidating to some, but not me. I sit down silently at the table and serve myself some food.

Crispy bacon, hot rolls, scrambled eggs, and several slices of orange all go on my plate, and then I pour myself a glass of cold milk. The escort watches me carefully, and then huffs.

"At least you don't eat as much as most district kids," he says.

I blink at him. "I do not eat much on a regular basis."

He huffs again. "You're a weird kid."

"I have been told that before," I reply.

Just then, Cyber comes downstairs, hair mussed up and rubbing his eyes. He gives me a sleepy smile, and I smile back.

He's barely sat down when our mentors come rushing into the room and tell us that we have to get going. Cyber glances sadly at all the food as we make our way over to elevator.

I do not blame him. I am trying to eat as much as I can before the Games begin, so that I hopefully will not starve once in the Games. I assume Cyber is trying to do the same.

We stand in silence as the elevator descends toward the Training Room.

A few minutes later, there is a pleasant _ding_ , and the doors slide open. The Training Room is not very full yet, only about six people here.

Of course, they all turn and look at us as we enter.

Cyber shrinks slightly, but I simply hold my head up higher and stare them all in the eye.

I cannot show fear. Twelve-year-olds never last long in the Games, but they last longer if they do not show fear.

* * *

 **Andromida Nyx Lede, age 18**

 **District 1 Female**

* * *

I threw up again this morning. I guess I'm more nervous than I thought.

I wrap my arms around my stomach and hope I don't have to make a run for the bathroom during training. That would not make a good impression on the rest of the Career pack.

Quentin gives me a concerned look, but I wave him off. Neither of us can afford to show weakness.

As soon as everyone is in the Training Room, the head trainer, Atala, starts talking about the all the training stations and the rules. When she's done, everyone splits up and heads off to various stations.

Except the Career pack.

We all gather in a loose circle in the middle of the Training Room, all of us together for the first time. I feel a flutter of nervousness in my stomach.

Oh, I really hope I don't throw up.

There's the pair from District 2, Crimson Legacy and Carlisle De Amire. Both muscular, both clearly trained. Then there's the pair from District 4, Salinity Hoffman and Luciel Tide. Salinity is trained, but I somehow doubt if Luciel is.

Poor guy.

"So," Quentin says. "Here we all are."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Carlisle says with a roll of his eyes.

"Hey!" Quentin says.

"All right, boys," Salinity says, stepping between the two of them. "Calm down."

Quentin rolls his eyes but steps away from Carlisle, and Carlisle steps away from him. Salinity smiles with satisfaction.

"OK," Crimson says. "Now that that's out of the way, what are we going to do today?"

"I was thinking we'd -" Quentin starts.

"Wait a minute," Carlisle interrupts. "What about him?"

Luciel points to himself. "Me?"

"Yeah," Carlisle says.

"What about him?" I ask.

"Should he even be in the Career pack?" Carlisle asks bluntly. "I mean, is he even trained?"

"I'm standing right here," Luciel says.

"He's...sort of trained," Salinity says, ignoring Luciel.

"Sort of trained," Carlisle scoffs. "He's not gonna be part of this pack."

"And who died and crowned you king?" Quentin puts in.

"You got a problem with me?" Carlisle snaps, stepping closer to Quentin.

As the rest of the Careers start to argue, I quietly slip away, heading for the healing station. Practicing healing always relaxes me.

I start crushing plants to make a poultice, paying special attention to natural remedies.

The nauseous feeling in my stomach isn't going away.

I doubt if it will anytime soon.

* * *

 **Lathan Oxford, age 17**

 **District 10 Male**

* * *

The snow queen from District 1 is at the healing station.

After being abandoned by my District partner, I've been wandering around, looking at the various stations and the various tributes. The sight of a Career at the healing station is the most interesting one I've seen all morning.

She still seems to glow, particularly in the harsh, fluorescent light of the Training Room.

Suddenly, as if sensing my eyes on her, she turns and looks at me. She blinks, once, twice, three times.

"Hi," she says, a bit uncertainly.

My mouth falls open a little bit at the sound of her voice. I'm not used to people speaking to me unless the have to.

"Hello," I say after several moments.

"Why are you watching me?" she asks.

"I like watching people," I reply.

She blinks at me, as if this is something unusual. "Oh."

We stare at each other for several more minutes, and then I move on. I can still feel her eyes on my, but I do my best not to look back.

I pass Cassiopeia at the trap-making station, but she glares at me so ferociously that I quickly move on.

Looks I'll be going it alone.

As per usual.

* * *

 **Camille Laureline, age 16**

 **District 7 Female**

* * *

As the bell rings for lunch, I hop off the climbing wall, wiping my forehead.

Cedar is waiting for me at the bottom. "Are you hungry?"

"Starved," I say.

"Do you...do you, want to eat together?" Cedar asks.

"All right," I say.

We walk into the lunch room together, caught up in the tide of tributes. Once in the lunch room, we find a small table in the back, well away from the Careers, but not so far away that it looks like we're scared of them.

Even though I am, and Cedar probably is, too.

Today, lunch is hot roast beef, fried potatoes, and steamed asparagus with a slice of strawberry-and-cream pie for desert. Everything is delicious, which is the usual for the Capitol.

"At least if we're going to die, they're feeding us well before," Cedar says dryly.

I laugh, and then look him up and down.

"Wanna be allies?" I ask.

Cedar looks at me for a moment. "OK."

I smirk at him and pop an asparagus in my mouth. "Welcome aboard."

He laughs.

* * *

 **Clementine Willis, age 16**

 **District 12 Female**

* * *

The District 7s seem to have made an alliance with each other.

How lovely for them.

As for me, I'm all alone. I'm rather glad lunch is over, because I was sitting all alone. Samuel is ignoring me, and no one wants to ally with the girl from District 12.

In spite of the fact that the District 12 girl got _plenty_ of allies last year.

I sigh, rubbing two sticks together in an attempt to make a fire. However, all I seem to be able to make is smoke.

"You're doing it wrong," a voice from behind me says.

I whip my head around and see the pale little thirteen-year-old from District 10 standing there, her sour face twisted in a smirk.

"And what would you know about it?" I snap.

"I live in District 10," she says. "We make fires all the time there."

"Fine, then, why don't _you_ do it?" I say angrily.

She smirks wider, sitting down beside me and shoving me out of the way. A couple of seconds later, a small fire sparks up on the sticks, burning brightly.

"There," she says. "Fire."

I glare at her, huffing furiously. "Fine. Whatever."

She regards me for a second, and then holds out her hand. "I'm Cassiopeia. Cassiopeia Veremox."

"Clementine," I say. "Clementine Willis."

"Allies?" Cassiopeia asks.

I bite my lip. "All right."

An actual smile blooms on Cassiopeia's face. She looks a lot younger when she's smiling.

* * *

 **Calico Tailor, age 13**

 **District 8 Female**

* * *

I'm attempting to get a good score at the edible plants station when Atala announces that the Training Room is closing for the day.

I immediately leap to my feet, glad to be done for the day.

I feel...out of place here, here among the trained Careers and even some of the stronger outer District tributes, like Samuel Blackthorn or Lathan Oxford.

Watching everybody else makes me less than optimistic about my chances of survival.

So I don't even wait for Tyler to come. I just sprint for the elevator.

As soon as I'm inside, the doors start to close, but someone puts their foot in between the doors and slips inside. I stare up at the tall, eighteen-year-old girl from District 11, and she stares down at me.

"District 8?" she asks.

"Yeah," I say.

We ride in silence for the rest of the way, and then the elevator comes to a stop at my floor.

"Well, this is me," I say.

"OK," the District 11 girl says.

I walk out of the elevator and see my mentor, Kiara Weaver, sitting at the table in front of me.

"Hey, kid," she says. "How'd training go?"

"OK," I reply as I head upstairs.

Once I'm upstairs, I flop down on my bed and stare up at the ceiling.

So far, my plan to make a mark on Panem is failing miserably.

That's depressing.

* * *

 **A/N I hope you liked it, and please review!**


	20. Training Day 2: Out of the Frying Pan

**A/N Hi everyone! Here's the second training day!**

* * *

 **Crimson Legacy, age 17**

 **District 2 Female**

* * *

I haven't slept all night, and now it's almost time to get up.

The closer I get to the Games, the less I seem to be able to sleep.

I'm exhausted.

I sigh and get out of bed, slipping into my training clothes and heading downstairs.

Carlisle gives me a soft smile as I slip into the seat beside him. Aquamarine, our escort, gives me a wide smile with her painted, shimmery turquoise lips.

I don't even try to smile. I'm sure I must look awful.

I scoop some eggs and bacon onto my plate and butter myself some toast, which I quickly devour.

"You OK?" Carlisle asks.

"Fine," I say quietly. "Just sort of tired."

He doesn't look entirely convinced, but he drops the subject.

As soon as I'm done with my breakfast, the two of us head for the elevator. I'm glad the elevator ride isn't too long, because I'm such a bundle of nerves that I can barely function.

Carlisle gives me another concerned look, so I shove him and he laughs.

When we arrive in the Training Room, I notice that the rest of the Career pack is already here. Andromida gives me a smile as I come to stand beside her.

"Are you all right?" she asks. "You look sort of tired."

"I'm fine," I reply. "I just haven't been sleeping very well lately."

"Oh," Andromida says. "Well, if it's any consolation, I threw up twice in the past two days."

I stifle a laugh. "Really?"

"Yeah," she says. "Once on the train, and then once just after we got here."

"You're not sick, are you?" I ask, feeling slightly concerned for both my health and hers.

"No," she says. "I'm just feeling a little...off. Nothing to worry about, though."

I nod, deciding to take her word for it.

As time passes, more tributes start trickling in, until finally, we're all here. Then Atala gives her speech, and then we're all free to go to whichever stations we want.

"Anywhere specific you wanna go?" I ask.

"Swordfighting station?" Andromida says.

"All right," I say.

As we walk off together, I can feel the eyes of all the other tributes on us.

But that's OK.

I'm not worried.

I'm a Career.

I just have to keep repeating that to myself until I believe it.

* * *

 **Luciel Tide, age 14**

 **District 4 Male**

* * *

I've been kicked out of the Career pack.

Salinity didn't even really stand up for me. So now I'm on my own.

And a very big part of my plan for surviving the Hunger Games depended on being a part of the Career pack.

I am _so_ screwed.

I sigh deeply, glancing down at the floor below me and tugging on the rope on my harness.

"OK up there?" the climbing wall trainer yells.

"Fine!" I holler back.

"Will you hurry up?" someone else yells up at me.

I glance down and see the girl from District 11, glaring up at me, arms crossed.

"Well, excuse me!" I yell.

She huffs, still glaring daggers at me.

Rolling my eyes, I decide to head down before she decides to come up here and deal with me herself.

When my feet touch the ground, I immediately start fumbling with my harness. The trainer comes over to help me while the District 11 girl taps her foot.

"All right, Miss Thresher," the trainer says as soon as I'm out of the harness. "Your turn."

As Miss Thresher steps into the harness, I head over to the edible plants station, which, unfortunately, is occupied by the girl from District 12. She keeps getting a bad score, and she looks like she might cry.

Finally, she stomps off, and I take my turn.

I hope I can survive this.

I don't know what George will do if I don't.

* * *

 **Quentin Ferro, age 18**

 **District 1 Male**

* * *

Sweat drips down my face as I prepare for another match with the sword-fighting instructor. I've been taking my frustrations about Carlisle out on sword-fighting trainers for nearly two hours now.

That guy is the most annoying person I've ever had the misfortune to meet.

Andromida is beside me, leaning on her katana and drinking from a bottle of water. Her eyes are closed as she gulps down the icy water.

Suddenly, as if feeling my eyes on her, she opens her eyes puts the bottle down.

"What's up?" she asks.

"Nothing," I say. "Just...wondering if you're feeling OK."

"I'm fine," Andromida says, a slight edge to her voice. "Seriously."

"OK," I say. "You wanna go get some lunch?"

"All right," Andromida says. "But those spinach rolls you like so much make me nauseous, so don't eat them near me."

I huff exaggeratedly, folding my arms. "That's cruel and unusual."

She laughs and grabs my arm. "Come on, drama king. Time to eat."

We meet up with Crimson and Carlisle at the doorway to the lunch room. Andromida and Crimson start chatting while Carlisle and I carefully ignore each other.

Salinity is already sitting at a table, staring off into space. She somehow manages to look brooding and sexy, instead of how I'd probably look doing that, which is brain-damaged.

She blinks at the sight of us, and then a slow smile spreads across her face. "Hey."

"Hi," Andromida says, sitting down.

Crimson waves as she sits down, and then she pulls Carlisle down after her.

A few minutes later, lunch is served by Avoxes. Unfortunately (but fortunately for Andromida), there are no spinach rolls. But there is some delicious-looking stew, with meat and vegetables and bread rolls on the side.

We all dig in.

Salinity is talking with the other two girls about the interviews, speculating about their outfits and so on. I'm not particularly looking forward to the interviews. I am, however, looking forward to the private sessions.

When I'll finally get to show the Gamemakers what I can _really_ do.

Suddenly, there's a loud _clang_ , and everyone here turns their heads to see what happened.

The girl from District 12 is on her knees, picking up the metal saltshaker that she must have knocked off the table. She's bright red in the face, and the little girl from District 10, who I think is her ally, is hiding her face.

Carlisle snorts. "She's a bloodbath for sure."

He doesn't even bother to lower his voice.

I fight the urge to roll my eyes.

Soon enough, I won't have to work with him anymore.

Soon.

* * *

 **Carlos Albedo, age 12**

 **District 5 Male**

* * *

I've been trying to get up the courage to talk to the girl from District 8 all morning.

So far, I haven't been successful. But right now she's all by herself at the trap-making station, so I figure I might as well go for it.

"Hi," I say, hoping my voice isn't shaking as much as my hands are.

She blinks at me. "Hello."

"Do you mind if I sit here?" I ask.

"Sure," she says, waving a hand at an empty spot next to her.

I sit down, grabbing some rope and a couple of sticks. I've never made a trap before, but Calico makes it look easy.

I quickly discover that it's not.

After my fourth failed attempt at making a proper knot, Calico rolls her eyes, shoves her own pile of traps to the side, and yanks the rope out of my hands. "Like this, District 5."

She proceeds to tie an almost-perfect knot.

"Wow," I say. "You're good."

A pleased little smile spreads across her face. "Well, thanks, I guess."

I take a deep breath. Here goes nothing. "Wannbeallies?"

"Beg pardon?" Calico asks, eyes slightly wide.

"I said, wanna be allies?" I say, feeling a hot blush on my cheeks.

She looks at me for several seconds. "OK."

I blink. "Really?"

"Yeah, why not?" she says. "Not like I've got anything to lose."

I grin.

That went better than I expected.

* * *

 **Zerine Sunlie, age 15**

 **District 9 Female**

* * *

Training _sucks_.

I mean, it really, _really_ , sucks.

I have no allies, the trainers are always looking at me weird, and I actually have to interact with other people.

I'm so glad tomorrow's the last day.

As Atala announces that training is done for the day, I leap to my feet and sprint toward the elevators, slipping into the nearest one. Which happens to already have people in it.

Dang.

There's the girl from District 5 and the boy from District 12. They were talking about something before I came in.

I can tell because they have the same look on their faces that my parents did whenever I walked into a room and they had just stopped talking. Usually about the divorce.

Oh, good. Now I'm depressed.

I need a drink.

We stand in awkward silence until we reach the District 5 girl's floor. When she gets out, she gives the District 12 boy a meaningful look. He nods, ever so slightly.

I roll my eyes.

Why do they feel the need to be so secretive?

It's not like I can tell anyone who'd care.

Finally, we get to my floor. I can't help but notice that the District 12 boy looks relieved as I leave.

Can't blame him.

People have the expression on their faces a lot when I leave.

I wonder if anyone'll be relieved when I die.

* * *

 **A/N I hope you liked it, and please review!**

 **P.S. I'll be posting an alliance list at the end of the next chapter.**


	21. Training Day 3: And Into the Fire

**A/N Hi everyone! Here's the last training day! Next up is the private sessions!**

* * *

 **Samuel Blackthorn, age 16**

 **District 12 Male**

* * *

I've woken up a six o'clock on the dot every morning since I was eight, and I'm not about to stop now. Besides, waking up early gives me time to think things over before the day gets started.

Today, the main thought in my mind is Shiela's proposal from last night.

Do I want to be her ally?

She seems pretty tough, not a complete and total _sap_ like Clementine, but I'm not sure if I want any allies at all.

I shake my head to clear it, changing into my training clothes.

I know I need to have an answer for her by the time I get to training.

So what I am I going to say?

At the moment, I'm leaning toward yes. After all, it's always good to have someone to watch your back, even if you don't particularly trust that someone.

Once I'm dressed, I head downstairs for breakfast. Predictably, Clementine isn't up yet.

I grab a piece of toast, spread some jam on it, and eat it on the way to elevator.

Eating too much first thing in the morning makes me sick.

As the elevator slowly descends toward the Training Room, I make my decision.

I'm going to say yes to Shiela.

The elevator _dings_ , and then the doors open. Standing there, very obviously waiting for me, is Shiela.

She smirks at the sight of me. "Well?"

"I'm in," I say.

No more needs to be said.

We're allies now.

For better, or for worse.

* * *

 **Maia Morrigan, age 15**

 **District 6 Female**

* * *

The boy from District 12 and the girl from District 5 are allies.

So are the pair from District 7.

Even Carlos found an ally.

And what do I have?

Zip.

Zilch.

Nothing.

No allies. Not even the _possibility_ of an ally.

Of course, that may have something to do with the fact that I've been telling everyone to 'leave me alone, dang it' for the past two days, but _still_. Aren't the mean people like me supposed to attract the nice people because they want to 'fix me', or some crap like that?

I pick another knife and heave it at the target. It misses.

Fan-flipping-tastic.

Groaning, I turn around to head for another station, only to smack straight into another girl.

"Ow!" she shrieks. "Watch where you're going!"

"Right back at you!" I snap, my temper flaring.

The girl who ran into me, who I think is from District 9, huffs furiously and then stomps off.

I roll my eyes. Egan keeps telling me I should ally with her, because we're both, according to him 'we're both terrible people'. Where he got that idea, I'll never know.

I decide to go to the plant identification station.

Maybe I'll have better luck there.

* * *

 **Salinity Hoffman, age 18**

 **District 4 Female**

* * *

I'm really starting to dislike both Carlisle and Quentin. They're both absolute _children_.

They spend most of their time fighting, and they both absolutely _refuse_ to try to settle things. They're so stupid.

I have a feeling that, if the Career pack breaks up early, it'll be their fault.

Of course, then I'll have to kill them both, and I'd feel a little bit bad about that.

I sigh, tossing another spear at the target. It hits the center of the target and sticks there, quivering.

"Nice," Crimson says from behind me.

"Thanks," I grunt, yanking the spear out. "Where's Andromida?"

"She, uh, went to go throw up," Crimson replies.

I sigh deeply.

"I'm sure she's just a little nervous," Crimson says. "Once we get in the actual Games, she'll be all right."

"I hope so," I say, putting the spear back on the rack. "Because a Career who spends half the time throwing up is not going to be very useful."

Crimson rolls her eyes. "Someone's uptight."

"Well, excuse me for not wanting to _die_ because some girl I barely even _know_ didn't know what she was getting into when she volunteered," I snap.

Crimson takes a step back, looking a little bit shocked.

I take a deep breath. "Sorry. I guess I'm a little bit nervous, too."

I'm not. But I do know what to say to make sure people stay my allies.

At least for now.

* * *

 **Cyber Bishop, age 15**

 **District 3 Male**

* * *

I'm completely _screwed_.

So, so, so screwed.

I should have seen this coming. My luck couldn't just be neutral, oh, no, it had to be bad.

Scratch that.

Abysmal is a better word.

Carlisle De Amire blinks up at me from underneath a thick layer of spaghetti and meatballs. He looks distinctly _not_ amused.

Dang it.

I lick my lips, desperately trying to think of something to say that will make the fact that I just tripped over nothing and spilled my lunch all over a _flipping Career_ a little less horrible.

Say something.

Andromida Lede puts one hand over her mouth like she's trying not to laugh.

Has to be words.

Salinity stares at me, narrowing her eyes like she's marking me down for killing.

 _Any_ words will do.

"Would you like a meatball?" I ask.

Nice. Yes. Good job, Cyber.

Andromida gives a sort of muffled snort.

Crimson turns and looks at her. "What was that?"

"A painfully stifled laugh," Andromida replies.

Carlisle glares at her, but there's no real heat behind it.

I take that opportunity to attempt to run for the hills, but I slip on a stray piece of spaghetti and face-plant into the floor.

Excellent.

Now I have a broken face on top of everything else.

This probably couldn't get much worse.

* * *

 **Cedar Lee, age 15**

 **District 7 Male**

* * *

I think understand what people mean by 'paralyzed with shock' now.

I haven't moved since the boy from District 3 spilled his lunch all over the boy from District 2.

Camille hasn't moved either.

She's slowly dripping meat sauce into her lap, because her fork is just sort of suspended between her plate and her mouth.

I don't think she's even noticed.

No one else in the lunch room has moved either. It's like we're all afraid to move.

I know I am.

I flinch slightly when the District 3 boy face-plants into the floor, but I still don't move. Even though I'd very much like to get out of here before Hurricane Carlisle strikes.

Sure enough, he starts to get to his feet, but, to my amazement, the girl from District 4 grabs his arm.

"Don't," she says.

"Why?" he asks.

"We're not allowed to attack other tributes," she says. "Besides, you can just kill him in the bloodbath."

She flashes a very white, predatory smile at the boy from District 3, who has just gotten his feet.

He gulps so hard I can see it from here.

Then he sprints out of the lunch room, and Carlisle heads for the bathroom to go wash the spaghetti and stuff off.

Slowly, people start to move again.

I look down at my food, but I've lost my appetite.

The poor District 3 boy.

I wouldn't want to be in shoes once the Games begin.

* * *

 **Willow Thresher, age 18**

 **District 11 Female**

* * *

I'm really freaking _bad_ at identifying plants. I thought I'd be better at it, because I lived in District 11 my whole life and never got poisoned, but I realize now that was mostly because I had Quail with me.

I miss him.

I wish he was here.

Scratch that.

I wish I was home with him.

I sigh deeply, resting my forehead against the cool metal of the plant identification test, preparing for another go.

The first plant appears on the screen, and a voice behind me says, "Safe."

Feeling impulsive, I hit the 'safe' button.

The screen turns green, telling me I got it right.

"Thanks," I say, turning around to see Raphael standing there.

"You're welcome," he says, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. "You want help with the rest."

I contemplate saying no. But the desire to not get poisoned is stronger than the desire to preserve my pride.

"Sure."

Raphael grins, coming to stand beside. I hit the 'continue' button, and the next plant pops up.

"That's ashberry," Raphael says. "Highly poisonous."

I hit the 'poisonous' button. The screen turns green again.

Raphael holds up his hand, and it takes me a moment to realize he wants a high-five.

I stare at him for a couple seconds, and then shrug and high-five him.

Pretty soon, the test is done, and I got 89%, better than I've ever gotten before.

"Thanks," I say. "Again."

"You're welcome," Raphael replies. "Again." Then he bites his lip. "Look, I know you said you don't want allies, but -"

"But what?" I interrupt.

"I was thinking...that...well...maybe, we could, like, agree that if we see each other in the arena, we won't kill each other. Or something like that," he says.

That statement gives me pause, but the more I think about it, the more I think the sound of it. A safety net. Yeah, that could work.

"OK," I say.

Raphael's face brightens considerably. "Cool."

"Cool," I say.

"I'll see you around, then," he says.

"OK," I reply.

And then he goes.

He's nice.

Too nice for the Games.

I hope I'm not nearby when he dies.

* * *

 **Egan Alice, age 13**

 **District 6 Male**

* * *

I kind of almost don't want training to end. Because once it ends, I'll have to face the private sessions, the interviews, and then the Games.

Really don't want training to end.

Pretty much everyone is already gone by the time I finally tear myself away from the fire-making station, and then I head for an elevator. As the elevator ascends, I wonder what'll happen to me when the Games finally start for real.

I have a plan for the bloodbath, but beyond that, I have no idea what I'm going to do.

I take a deep breath, shaking my head to clear it.

I can't afford to think that way.

Just then, the elevator _dings_ and the doors open. Maia is already there, scowling and glaring.

So normal behavior for her.

I sigh and sit down on an empty chair. The escort, Aefa, smiles at me as I sit down.

"Our mentors are upstairs, hiding," Maia says.

I sigh deeply. "Of course they are."

Sometimes, I think I'm cursed.

First, I end up in the Hunger Games. Now, my mentor isn't even going to help me.

I guess I'll have to handle this myself.

* * *

 **A/N Alliance List:**

 **Quentin, Andromida, Carlisle, Crimson, Salinity**

 **Cassiopeia, Clementine**

 **Calico, Carlos**

 **Cedar, Camille**

 **Shiela, Samuel**

 **Loners:**

 **Perona**

 **Cyber**

 **Luciel**

 **Maia**

 **Egan**

 **Tyler**

 **Zerine**

 **James**

 **Lathan**

 **Willow**

 **Raphael**

 **P.S. I hope you liked, and please review!**


	22. Private Sessions: Glitter Like Diamonds

**A/N Hi everyone! Here's the private sessions!**

* * *

 **Rani Glyniss, age 28**

 **Gamemaker**

* * *

"I hate private sessions," I mutter to Plutarch.

He smirks. "I know. You almost fell asleep last year."

"Oh, right," I say.

"Shhh," another Gamemaker, Adelina, hisses. "The tributes are coming!"

I roll my eyes at her just as the boy from District 1 comes in. He barely looks at us, but goes straight for the sword-fighting station.

He proceeds to start hacking up dummies with a startling violence for a such a calm, nice-looking boy. I immediately start writing. Just like last year, I have two notebooks. One to turn in to Seneca Crane, and the other is just for me.

To remember these tributes by.

 _'Strong tribute. Good at sword-fighting. Maybe a score of 10?'_

And then, in my other notebook, I scribble: _'Real blond pretty-boy. Seems like a stereotypical Career, but he actually seems to have real honor.'_

After he's done hacking up dummies, Mr Crane releases him. I happen to know for a fact that he's kind of hungover, so he's going to try to make this go as quickly as possible.

Next comes the girl from District 1, a beautiful blonde who looks like she could be her District partner's sister. She looks slightly nervous as she heads over to the healing station.

I cock my head in surprise. She's clearly nothing like last year's District 1 girl.

Once she's at the healing station, she picks out a vial of shockingly blue liquid, which she pours on a potted fern. The fern shrivels up and turns brown, and then she returns to the healing station and makes some kind of poultice, which she then smears all over the fern.

Within a couple of minutes, the poultice turns black and crumbles off the plant, and then the fern turns green again.

She starts to go to the sword-fighting station, but Mr Crane quickly dismisses her.

Then he leans over to me and whispers, "Give her a good score."

I nod, fighting back a smile. Pulling out my first notebook, I scribble: _'Good with healing. Probably good with weapons, too. Score of 9.'_

In my second notebook, I write: _'Seems like a sweet girl. Absolutely gorgeous as well.'_

Next is the boy from District 2, a huge, heavily-muscled young man with longish hair. He immediately grabs both a sword and mace, and asks for a trainer to fight. Once one comes, he flies into action.

I don't think I've ever seen anything so brutal in all my life. At least, in training.

Poor trainer.

Once he's been dismissed, I write in my first notebook: _'Extremely strong tribute. Seems completely ruthless. Score of 10.'_

In my second notebook, I scribble: _'Brutal boy. Seems like the type who has a dark past.'_

The next tribute is the girl from District 2, a curly-haired girl with determined glint her eyes. She goes over to the spears, picks up several spears and proceeds to throw them all the targets with deadly speed and accuracy.

"Dismissed," Mr Crane says as soon as she's done.

She looks a bit surprised, but hides it well. I immediately start writing: ' _Strong tribute. Good with spears. Score of 10.'_ And in my second notebook I write: _'Determined and fiery. Could be Victor material.'_

Just as I finish writing, the boy from District 3 comes in. He looks around nervously before heading over to the plant identification system, but he doesn't do so well.

Actually, that might be putting it nicely.

Mr Crane dismisses him so fast I think he might get whiplash. Once he's gone, I write in my first notebook: _'Not such a strong tribute. Definitely not good with plant identification. Score of 4.'_ And in my second notebook I write: _'Kind of twitchy and nervous. Poor kid.'_

Next is the girl from District 3, a tiny little twelve-year-old who's as stiff as board. She strides over to the climbing wall, which she scurries up like a squirrel. The second her feet her touch the ground, Mr Crane dismisses her.

Plutarch muffles his laugh in his sleeve.

I roll my eyes and scribble in my first notebook: _'Quick little thing. Good at climbing. Score of 5.'_ In my second notebook, I write: _'Very serious for such a little girl. Adorable, too.'_

Then the boy from District 4 comes. Within about twenty seconds of his coming, it becomes apparent that he's not actually going to do anything, so Mr Crane dismisses him. I give him a score of 1, and in my second notebook I write: _'Maybe a rebel, or maybe he's just given up.'_

The girl from District 4 comes in and immediately grabs a trident. She asks for a trainer to fight, and then promptly beats him into the ground without breaking a sweat. Then Mr Crane dismisses her, looking like he has a terrible headache.

In my first notebook, I write: _'Kind of terrifying, but very strong. Good with a trident, and probably every other weapon under the sun. Score of 10.'_ And in my second notebook, I scribble: _'Beautiful but scary. Reminds me of a saner Alara.'_

Then the boy from District 5 comes in, the tiny little twelve-year-old with dark eyes and dark curls. He walks over to the trap-making station and makes a simple trap, which he then tests out with a dummy from the sword-fighting station.

The trap does work, after which Mr Crane dismisses him. My boss looks like he might pass out, massaging his forehead and all.

In my first notebook, I write: _'Good with traps. Score of 4.'_ And in my second notebook, I scribble: _'Adorable little boy. Seems like a sweet kid.'_

I take a break and rest my eyes for a minute, and I end up falling asleep. I miss District 6, but Plutarch tells me that the boy got a 5 and the girl got a 3. And the girl is the older one.

District 7 comes next. The girl does the plant identification test and gets a 90%. In my first notebook, I write: _'Good at plant identification. Score of 6.'_ The boy does camouflage, and I give him a score of 5.

Next is District 8. The girl comes in and immediately walks over to the knife-throwing station. She doesn't do too badly, and then, when Mr Crane dismisses her, she gives him a sarcastic little salute. I smile to myself as I write in my first notebook: _'Good at knife-throwing. Fast. Score of 7.'_ In my second notebook, I write: _'Sassy and sarcastic. Big attitude for such a tiny little thing.'_

The boy from District 8 is less memorable. He attempts to use a sword, but fails rather miserably. I give him a score of 4, and in my second notebook, I write: _'Seems like a nice, normal guy.'_

I miss District 9, because an Avox brings out a tray of my favorite cream puffs just as the boy walks in. Adelina tells me that the girl got a 2 and the boy got a 4. I can't help but feel a bit sorry for them. With scores like those, no one's going to want to sponsor them.

District 10 is next, with the big boy and the tiny little girl. The boy just kind of...wanders around, and the girl just sits by the door and scowls. I give the boy a score of 3 and the girl gets a score of 1.

Next comes District 11. The girl picks up a scythe and starts hacking at dummies with such violence that stuffing flies everywhere. I give her a score of 7, and in my second notebook, I write: _'Seems angry about something. Definitely driven.'_ The boy does plant identification, and gets 98%. He gets a score of 6, I write in my second notebook: _'Seems like a nice boy. Lots of energy.'_

Finally, District 12 comes out. The girl tries to make some kind of poison, but she ends up blowing up half the healing station instead. Mr Crane looks like he might die at the loud sound the explosion makes. She gets a score of 2. In my second notebook, I write: _'Nice, normal girl. Not too good with healing, though.'_

The boy throws knives, and I give him a score of 8. In my second notebook, I write: _'Sort of...cold. Doesn't seem like the friendly type.'_

* * *

 **A/N I hate writing private sessions. They're so boring.**

 **Anyway, I hope you liked it, and please review!**


	23. Interviews: The Ones We Love

**A/N Hi everyone! Here's the interviews!**

* * *

 **Andromida Nyx Lede, age 18**

 **District 1 Female**

* * *

"OK, you can look now," my stylist, Lorna, says.

I open my eyes and see a glittering diamond queen in front of me. My hair is pulled into a bun at the nape of my neck, with a few curls hanging loose around my face. I'm wearing light pink lip gloss, a flick of mascara on my eyelashes, and palest blue eyeshadow. My dress is ankle-length, tank-top-style-sleeved, dark blue, and rather tight with a plunging neckline. The dress is encrusted with tiny diamonds in patterns like snowflakes, and I'm wearing crystal high-heels.

"Wow," I say.

"Thanks," Lorna says, still working on my makeup. "There. You're done."

I smile to myself as I walk out into the hallway. For once, I don't feel super nauseous, and I'm wearing a gorgeous outfit.

"Holy _crap_ ," a voice behind me says.

I turn around and see Quentin standing there in a navy blue tuxedo, an astonished smile on his face.

"You like?" I say, twirling around.

"I _do_ ," he says. "And I'll bet the Capitol will, too."

I laugh softly. "Come on. We'd better go."

"Yeah," Quentin says. Then he holds out his arm. "Shall we?"

I giggle, taking his hand. "OK."

We walk into the area where the tributes stay until they're called onstage. Crimson turns and looks at me, grinning with dark purple-painted lips.

"You both look amazing!" she says.

"So do you," I say with a smile.

Carlisle rolls his eyes, shoving his hands in the pockets of his pants.

"Oh, lighten up for an evening," Crimson says, swatting his arm.

"That wouldn't exactly go super well with my angle," Carlisle replies.

" _Fine_ ," Crimson says dramatically. "Be that way."

I laugh, feeling more relaxed than I have in a while.

Just then, a voice booms over the speaker, "And now, I give you...Andromida Nyx Lede!"

I take a deep breath.

Show time.

* * *

 **Serenity Rosalie, age 17**

 **Best Friend of Andromida Nyx Lede**

* * *

I stare at the television, silently willing Caesar Flickerman to call Andromida onstage.

Veraline shifts in her seat next to me, holding a glass of apple juice in slightly shaking hands.

I guess we're all a little nervous.

Suddenly, the Capitol crowd bursts into applause. Andromida's here.

And boy, does she look amazing.

The crowd doesn't stop cheering until Andromida has sat down, and even then, Caesar has to call for quiet in order to get them to stop. My heart lifts with hope at this.

Because if Andromida is popular, that means she'll get sponsors, and if she gets sponsors, that means she's got a better chance of making it out alive.

"Well, Miss Lede," Caesar says. "Looks like you're already quite the favorite."

Andromida laughs. "Well, thank you, Caesar. And call me Andromida, please."

"All right, Andromida," Caesar replies.

I feel the tight knot in my stomach loosen just a bit. She's doing all right. Maybe she's not pulling off the sexy angle most District 1 girls do, but she's doing all right.

"So, Andromida," Caesar continues. "A pretty girl like you must have a boy at home, hmm?"

Andromida blushes. "Sorry, Caesar, but no. I've been too focused on my training."

I snort at that. More like too focused on her fairy tales.

"Too bad," Caesar says with an exaggerated pout. "Well, if you get home there'll be plenty of time for boys, I suppose."

"You mean _when_ I get back," Andromida says, a smile tugging at her lips.

"Confident, aren't you?" Caesar says, raising one eyebrow.

"Yes, I am," Andromida replies.

Just then, the buzzer sounds, and Andromida walks offstage. The crowd calls for her to stay, and the knot in my stomach finally unwinds.

She has a chance.

Now, I just have to believe she can come home.

* * *

 **Artemis Legacy, age 14**

 **Younger Sister of Crimson Legacy**

* * *

I'm wringing my hands in my lap, my stomach in knots. I vividly remember watching Jade's interview last year, and how Cris refused to watch.

I can only hope that this'll end better than that did.

The boy from District 1 has just stepped onstage to loud applause. His tuxedo matches his District partner's dress, and his hair is spiked up with gel. He looks handsome and confident.

I can almost see the Capitol ladies swooning.

"Hello, Quentin," Caesar says with a broad grin. "How are you feeling this evening?"

"I'm fine, Caesar," Quentin says. Then he cracks a smile. "A little hot, though."

"I'll bet, in that tux," Caesar says. "It's a lovely outfit, though. Particularly since it matches Andromida's."

"I'm pretty sure that was on purpose," Quentin says.

"Right you are!" Caesar says. "Stylists are quite ingenious that way."

"Well, I'm sure the stylist that designed that suit must have been," Quentin says, to appreciative laughs from the audience and Caesar.

"You mean Evita?" Caesar asks. "Oh, yes, she's wonderful."

The crowd laughs again.

"So, Quentin," Caesar says. "Are you excited about the Games?"

Quentin ducks his head. "I wouldn't say I'm exactly excited, Caesar. More like...prepared. Prepared to do whatever needs to be done."

The buzzer sounds at the exact moment he finishes his sentence. The crowd yells for him to stay, much to my disappointment. He's not so great.

Then every thought is driven out of my head by the sight of my sister.

She looks absolutely incredible. Her normal crazy curls have been replaced by sleek waves, pulled back from her face in an elaborate braid. She's wearing dark, smoky makeup with dark purple, velvety-looking lipstick. Her ankle-length dress matches her lipstick, and, as she walks, I can she that there's a long slit up both sides of the dress.

Cris sits down with an elegance I didn't know she possessed, smiling politely.

"Well, don't you look dangerous!" Caesar says.

And it's true.

"Thanks, Caesar," Cris says. "If that was, in fact, a compliment."

Caesar laughs heartily. "Oh, it was!"

"Good," Cris says. "Because in these Games, dangerous is _exactly_ what I'm going to be."

The crowd roars at that statement.

Caesar looks impressed. "Speaking of the Games, what do you think of your allies?"

"Oh, they're great," Crimson says with an actual, genuine smile. "Andromida's becoming a friend, and even though Quentin and Carlisle fight a lot, I like 'em anyway." She laughs. "And, as for Salinity, well...she's possibly the _coolest_ person I've ever met. Seriously."

"Well, it's nice to see our Careers getting along so well," Caesar says. "But I can't help but notice that there wasn't a boy from District 4 in there anywhere. What happened to him?"

"Oh, he wasn't trained," Cris says, waving a hand dismissively. "So he couldn't stay."

I feel a little bit like I've been punched in the stomach.

Since when does my sister just...throw untrained people under the bus?

"Well, that's too bad," Caesar says.

Cris shrugs. "That's the way it goes."

The crowd seems to like this response, but I certainly don't.

Just then, the buzzer goes off, and Crimson walks offstage. I'm almost relieved to see her go.

When did the big sister I shared a room with become the ruthless Career who is willing to do anything to win?

* * *

 **Capsize "Cap" Manteau, age 17**

 **Friend of Salinity Hoffman**

* * *

Anchor and I are watching the interviews together at Salinity's parent's house, and it's extremely awkward. Mostly because her brother, who is stoned, is here.

Making loud comments and generally being a jerk.

The boy from District 2 is onstage, and he's kinda terrifying, with his one word answers and constant glower. Even Caesar looks a little nervous to be around him. The Capitol audience loves him, though.

I can't say I'm surprised.

Finally, the buzzer sounds, he walks offstage, and the tiny girl from District 3 comes on.

She's even smaller than last year's District 3 girl, and that's saying something. Perona, I think her name is. Her dress is green and silver and a bit tutu-like, with a pair of green ballet flats. Her dark hair is in two braids tied off with silver wire. She looks cute, which I think is what her stylists were going for.

She drops a little curtsy at Caesar before sitting down, to the delight of the crowd.

This kid's good.

"Well, Perona," Caesar says once he can actually make himself heard. "You have excellent manners."

"Thank you," she says with a tiny smile.

"So, how does it feel to be one of the youngest competitors in this year's Games?" Caesar asks.

"I know I'm outgunned," Perona says simply. "But I will try my best to get home anyway."

"Awww," Caesar says.

Perona smiles into the camera. There's something strangely vicious about that smile, something that looks out-of-place on a twelve-year-old's face.

I recognize it in a second. I've seen it before.

This little girl is a wolf in bunny rabbit's clothing. She's got the look of a killer in her eyes.

And no one is noticing.

I tune out the rest of Perona's interview, and her District partner's is so extremely boring that not even the Capitol people can find a way to be interested in it.

And then Salinity comes on. She's positively glittering in a tight, turquoise sheath dress that goes down to her mid-thigh. Her hair is swept into an elegant side-braid, and she's wearing a pair of golden-gladiator heels. A confident smile is on her rose-red lips.

I hear, many, many, many cheers for her. Most of them are likely from men.

Even Caesar is applauding.

"Salinity, you look fabulous!" he says.

She smiles, that smirk that always drove boys, whether they were down at the docks or at a party, crazy. "Thanks, Caesar. But I'm afraid I can't take credit for this gorgeous ensemble. That honor goes to my stylist."

Nice, Sal. Keep this up and you'll have them all in your pocket.

Caesar asks her some questions about the Career pack, and about whether she's got a boy back home (I burst into silent giggles at that, because Salinity's got about a dozen boys here. She says as much to Caesar, to the absolute glee of the audience and probably the entire Capitol.), and then he asks her about her friends.

She freezes, just a little, and then says, "I have two best friends, actually: Cap and Anchor. They're probably watching this right now, so I'm not gonna be sappy. I'll just say see you soon, and leave it at that."

The crowd roars as she walks offstage. I sit back in my seat, a wide smile on my face.

See you soon, Sal.

* * *

 **Alice Glenn, age 17**

 **Friend of Cedar Lee**

* * *

I'm sitting sandwiched between Kenneth and Walter on Walter's couch, watching the District 4 boy stumble and stammer through his interview.

What a train wreck.

He's clearly shaken up about what Crimson Legacy said about him, and probably about the impending Games.

I feel him on that. I'm shaken up about the Games, too.

The girl from District 5 comes out, wearing a horribly bright lemon-yellow blouse with a tight black skirt and a pair of black-and-yellow heels. Her hair is pulled up in a bun on top of her head, and she's wearing dark pink lipstick.

She's sort of awkward, but not as bad as the District 4 boy. At least she manages to come off as likable.

I think her name is Shiela.

She only freezes once, when Caesar asks her about her family.

"My parents are dead," she finally manages to say. "I only have my little brother."

The crowd 'awws' appropriately, and then the buzzer sounds and she leaves.

The little boy from District 5 is absolutely adorable in a tiny tuxedo, with his hair slicked down and his eyes super wide.

He chatters about anything and everything for the entirety of his interview. Caesar barely needs to ask him anything at all.

I feel a stone in my stomach at the thought of him dying.

The girl from District 6 comes out next, in an incredibly short, black dress with tall, black boots and silver chains all over her neck and arms. Her hair is up in a messy bun, and she's wearing thick, dark makeup.

In short, she looks like all of those 'bad girls' who hang out in the alleyway behind the Justice Building and buy drugs from smugglers.

She probably used to be one of them before getting Reaped.

Her entire interview is spent growling and cursing, and at the end she asks, "Anyone know where I can get a freakin' smoke around here?"

The audience laughs, but I'm almost positive it's not a joke.

The boy from District 6 is wearing a cute little gray suit with a dark blue tie. When he comes out, he looks a little nervous, but that quickly goes away when Caesar applauds his suit.

"So, Egan," he says. "What do you think of the Capitol?"

"It's cool," Egan replies. "I got to try something called sushi on my first day here, so that was fun."

"Mmmm, sushi," Caesar says. "One of my favorite dishes."

"I like it, too," Egan says.

I kind of want to cry now, because twenty-three of these kids are going to die pretty soon, and, if Cedar's going to come home, then this kid is going to be one of them.

Why do I always have these thoughts?

Then the buzzer goes off, and Egan leaves. The crowd seems sad to see him go.

My heartbeat quickens as I see Camille walk onstage, grinning into the camera and wearing a long, glittery gold dress with her hair straightened and falling sleek around her shoulders. She's wearing gold eyeshadow and dark red lipstick, with a green headband keeping her hair out of her face.

"Hello, Camille," Caesar says. "What a sparkly dress you have!"

"You should talk," Camille says. "And call me Cammy. Everyone does."

"OK, Cammy," Caesar says. "So, tell me, what do _you_ think of the Capitol."

"I dunno," Camille says. "I mean, it's nice and all, but for me, there's really no place like home."

The crowd 'awws', and I find myself hoping that comment doesn't come back to bite her in the butt later.

No. No. I can't think that way. Only one person gets to come home, and it _has_ to be Cedar.

"Cammy, do you have a strategy for the Games?" Caesar asks, interrupting my train of thought.

"I can't tell you that, Caesar," Camille says with a toothy grin. "After all, I don't want to give away the surprise."

"Fair enough," Caesar chuckles.

Just then, the buzzer sounds, and Camille saunters offstage to moans and groans from the crowd.

I lean forward in my seat, willing Cedar to walk out faster.

When I see him, I feel my eyes well up with tears. He looks _exactly_ like the Cedar I remember, but at the same time _nothing_ like him. Cedar's wearing a brown velvet tuxedo with green accents. His hair has been left alone, which is a small comfort.

He's smiling widely as he shakes hands with Caesar.

"You look very nice in that tuxedo, I must say," Caesar says.

"Thanks," Cedar says.

"Camille wouldn't tell me about her strategy, but will you?" Caesar asks.

"Sorry, no," Cedar says. "I'd like to have as few people find out about my strategy as possible."

"Too bad," Caesar says. "But I'm sure we'll all be looking forward to seeing what you'll do in the arena, right?"

The crowd roars assent. Cedar looks vaguely sick for a brief moment before plastering a smile on his face again.

Just then, the buzzer sounds, and Cedar quickly gets off the stage.

Kenneth turns the television off, and we all just sit there in silence. I'm pretty sure we're all thinking the same thing.

 _I hope he survives tomorrow._

* * *

 **Demeter Wheatfield, age 18**

 **Best Friend of James Miller**

* * *

Trent and I are sitting in my living room, waiting for James to come onstage. The interviews have never felt so long.

The girl from District 8 is onstage right now, in her red-and-green patchwork tunic and black leggings with little red boots and her hair up in a ponytail. She's a little firecracker, making jokes and generally attempting to be as memorable as possible.

It's working, as far as I'm concerned.

She's even got Caesar laughing.

When the buzzer goes off, everyone groans and moans and begs her to stay, but she just blows kisses and skips offstage in a veritable storm of flowers and jewels.

The boy from District 8 is much less memorable. He answers questions but doesn't volunteer any information of his own. He's just kind of...there.

So yeah, not memorable at all, bordering on boring.

Then Zerine comes out, and I nearly choke on my glass of water. She's wearing a blood-red dress that comes to about her mid-thigh, with one of the lowest necklines I've ever seen. Even lower than the District 1 girl's. She's got on insanely high black heels with black jewelry and heavy, black and red makeup. Her lips are painted so red it looks like she's drunk a pint of blood.

She grins as she saunters over to Caesar. "Hiya."

"Hello," Caesar says. "That's quite an outfit."

"Isn't it?' Zerine says. "I told my stylist I wanted something _unique_. After all, if I'm gonna die, might as well go out in a blaze of glory, right?"

At that moment, I realize she's drunk. Where she got alcohol, I don't want to know, but she's _definitely_ drunk.

Caesar clears his throat. "Well, it's definitely something."

"Thanks," Zerine says. "And is it hot in here to you?"

So very drunk.

"No," Caesar says, starting to look confused.

"Oh, well," Zerine says.

"Now, Zerine, what do you think of the Capitol so far?" Caesar asks.

"Oh, it's great," she says. "Great booze."

That's about when Caesar realizes exactly what's happening. "Oh."

"Yep," Zerine says.

At that moment, mercifully, the buzzer goes off, and Caesar quickly hurries Zerine offstage.

And then James comes out. He's wearing a nice white shirt and a pair of beige pants, and his hair has been combed and gelled to perfection.

Caesar looks positively relieved to see him. "Hello, James."

"Hey, Caesar," he says easily, smiling.

My heart hurts at the sight of that smile. I miss him. I want him home.

"You look very casual," Caesar says. "Any particular reason for that?"

"I didn't want to wear a suit," James replies.

The audience laughs, but I know James well enough to know that he's being completely serious. Which actually makes it all the funnier.

"Well, suits aren't for everyone," Caesar says with a perfectly straight face.

The crowd laughs again.

Caesar and James banter for a little longer, and then the buzzer goes off. I'm tempted to cry as I drink him in with my eyes.

I don't want him to go.

Trent wraps one arm around me.

Please come home, James.

Please.

* * *

 **Quail Grove, age 18**

 **Best Friend of Willow Thresher**

* * *

I'm sitting on Mrs Thresher's couch with Ginny in my lap and Cher and Barry curled up on either side of me. Abby's draped herself across one of the armchairs, and Mrs Thresher is sitting on the other.

We're all waiting to catch a glimpse of Willow.

The little girl from District 10 is on now, in a flowing, beaded purple dress with her pale hair curled into a waterfall of ringlets. She'd look quite cute if it weren't for the sullen scowl on her face.

Caesar is still trying to get her to talk, but she's having none of it. I kind of admire her for that.

I'd probably be doing the same thing.

Finally, the buzzer sounds and she gets up and walks away, pretending not to hear the disappointed mutters of the crowd.

The boy from District 10 is a disaster, and, unlike his District partner, it's not on purpose.

As soon as he gets onstage, he freaks out because of the bright lights and all the people. Caesar tries to calm him down, but eventually they call a pair of Peacekeepers up there to get him offstage.

He punches one of them in the jaw and knocks him out cold, which only seems to freak the poor guy out more. Then the other Peacekeeper knocks him out and drags him offstage.

The crowd, horribly enough, is positively applauding. Maybe they think it's an act.

Or maybe they just don't care.

Probably the second one.

I stop thinking about that immediately when Willow comes on. She's breathtaking in a no-sleeved, floor-length ivory gown with gold tree patterns embroidered onto it. Her hair is pulled back into an elaborate braided bun, and she's wearing white-gold eyeshadow and a dark pink lipstick.

My eyes almost well up with tears at the sight of her.

She smiles at Caesar as she sits down, and he smiles back.

"You look lovely, Willow," he says.

"Thanks, Caesar, you don't look so bad yourself," she replies.

The crowd laughs appreciatively, and she gives them all a dazzling smile.

Willow and Caesar talk about random stuff for a bit. I tune out the words and just gaze at Willow.

It feels like it's been years since I've seen her.

I'm snapped out of my thoughts by Caesar saying, "Come on, a pretty girl like you must have a boy at home!"

Willow flushes. "Again, _no_."

Caesar laughs as the buzzer goes off.

I stare at Willow as she walks offstage.

And then, wishing she could she see me, I mouth _I love you_ at the TV screen.

* * *

 **Fawn Dunbryll, age 12**

 **Friend of Clementine Willis**

* * *

This is the first time I've ever watched the Hunger Games. And I'm only doing so because Clementine is a tribute.

The girl from District 11 just walked offstage, and now I'm waiting, squished between my parents, for my first, best, and only friend to come out.

And then she does, wearing a charcoal-gray sweater-dress with her hair in one braid down her back. She's wearing some gray eyeshadow and dark red lipstick, and her shoes look like they're made of marble.

But she still looks like the Clementine from before.

Except, of course, for the spectacularly fake smile pasted on her lips.

"Clementine!" Caesar says. "I see your stylists are still going with the coal theme!"

She giggles. "I didn't know coal could look this attractive."

"Well, you learn something new everyday!" Caesar says happily.

"Indeed," Clementine says.

Caesar asks her a couple of questions about the Capitol, and then he turns the conversation to District 12.

"You must have some friends," Caesar says. "After all, you can't spend all your time chasing rainbows!"

Clementine rolls her eyes. "I _do_ have friends. Their names are Glenn, Sage, Karma, and Fawn. Glenn is sixteen, Sage is fifteen, Karma is seventeen, and Fawn is twelve."

"Friends with a twelve-year-old?" Caesar asks, and the tone of disbelief in his voice makes my heart sink, even though it's not surprising.

Everyone reacts that way.

"Yes," Clementine says. "And she's one of the sweetest people I've ever met."

And just like that, my heart leaps.

The audience 'awws', but Clementine isn't finished.

"I'm fighting for her. For all my friends. And for my mom, and my dad. I'm fighting for everyone who cares about me."

The crowd cheers so loudly I almost don't hear the buzzer going off, but somehow, Caesar does. And then Clementine walks offstage, roses and what looks like actual jewels being thrown at her.

"She can win," I whisper, and both my parents look at me in shock.

I don't blame them, since this is the first time I've spoken since the Reaping.

* * *

 **Jason Peat, age 16**

 **Best Friend of Samuel Blackthorn**

* * *

I'm standing in the square, staring up at the giant television screens. I really hope Samuel is grateful for the fact that I'm standing out here in the freezing cold just to watch his interview.

The girl, Clementine, has barely left the stage Samuel comes on, in an inky black tuxedo, with his hair falling rakishly over one eye.

Oh, boy, Sam. Trying a little hard to be charming there, aren't we?

"Well, ladies and gentlemen it's our last tribute, Samuel Blackthorn!" Caesar says.

Samuel smirks (charmingly) and waves before sitting down.

"So," Caesar says. "What do you think of the Capitol?"

"I like it," Samuel says. "The food's much better than back in District 12, I'll tell you that much."

The crowd chuckles, and so does Caesar. I roll my eyes. Capitol people are even easier to play than softhearted merchant kids.

I get briefly distracted by a little sneak-thief trying to make off with my wallet, and, by the time I turn back to the TV screens, Caesar is asking Samuel if he has a girl at home.

I already know the answer to that, and it's a resounding 'no'.

Samuel says as much, much to Caesar's disappointment.

Then he asks him about his friends, to which he replies by saying, "I have one friend. His name is Jason, and he's a giant pain 90% of the time, and the other 10% he's making inappropriate jokes."

About half the teenagers in the square turn and look at me. I give them a sarcastic little wave like 'yes, that's me'.

Then the buzzer sounds, and Samuel frankly looks relieved. He's never been good at speaking to more than ten people at a time.

As I watch him walk offstage, my lips twist into a sort of smile.

He can win.

At least, he'd better.

* * *

 **A/N I hope you liked it, and please review!**


	24. Launch: The Beginning of the End

**A/N Hi everyone! Here's the launch! NEXT IS THE BLOODBATH!**

* * *

 **Rani Glyniss, age 28**

 **Gamemaker**

* * *

I'm staring at a 3-d holo of the arena, trying to figure out how someone managed to put a camera facing the ground (like, literally, the lens of the camera is practically kissing the dirt), when Plutarch walks over to me.

"You ready for this?" he whispers.

"As I'll ever be," I respond.

"Good," Plutarch says. "Because these Games are liable to be even more brutal than last year's. Especially with those...things."

"They're called Sentinels," I snap. "And trust me, they'll be _fine_."

"I'm not doubting you," Plutarch says, raising his hands. Then he glances at the holo. "What are you working on?"

"Trying to readjust this camera," I mutter, swiping at the tiny blue dot that is the camera in question.

Plutarch sighs. "Have fun."

"Oh, I will," I reply.

A couple of minutes later, Seneca Crane steps onto the center podium. "Ahem. Ladies and gentlemen, it's almost time."

The entire room cheers, including me. But only because I'm glad we're finally getting this over with.

"Let the 71st Annual Hunger Games begin!"

Oh, yes.

Let them begin.

I'm ready this time.

* * *

 **Quentin Ferro, age 18**

 **District 1 Male**

* * *

I'm trying very hard to remember how to breathe. I didn't think I'd be this nervous, but I am.

Andromida shoots me a sympathetic look from her seat beside me, but then her face goes rather pale as a woman in a white Gamemaker's uniform comes down the center of the hovercraft, holding a large needle.

"What's wrong?" I whisper.

"Needles," Andromida replies. "I don't like needles."

"Oh," I say.

The Gamemaker is now only two people away from Andromida. I grab her hand as the Gamemaker injects the person next to her.

"All right, give me your arm," the Gamemaker says in a bored tone of voice.

Andromida slowly holds out her arm, gripping my hand tighter. The Gamemaker grabs her wrist and holds the needle above the crook of her elbow, and, as she injects the tracker, Andromida squeezes my hand so tight I think I feel bones grind together.

Then it's my turn.

The needle burns as it goes into my flesh, and I bite my lip to keep from making an undignified yelping noise.

"Ouch," I mutter as soon as the Gamemaker woman has moved on to the next tribute.

"Right?" Andromida whispers back.

I smile at her, and she smiles back.

At least I have a friend in all of this.

* * *

 **Camille Laureline, age 16**

 **District 7 Female**

* * *

I rub my arm where the tracker went in, cursing quietly. That really _smarts_.

Glancing around the hovercraft, I spot Cedar, sitting in between the girl from District 10 and the girl from District 6. They're both glaring and looking generally angry, and poor Cedar looks like he'd rather be _anywhere_ but here.

I try to catch his eye, but he doesn't lift his gaze from the floor.

Oh, well.

The hovercraft's engine rumbles beneath my feet, and I swallow hard. In just a little while, I'll be in the arena.

The _arena_.

And I'll have to kill or be killed.

I take a deep breath, forcing that thought out of my head.

For now, I'm just going to focus on surviving this ride.

I'll take the rest as it comes.

* * *

 **Perona Destins, age 12**

 **District 3 Female**

* * *

I cannot show fear.

That is the only thought in my mind right now.

Very soon, the Games will officially begin, and I _cannot_ afford to be afraid until they are over.

The hovercraft windows darken to black, letting me know that we are nearing the arena.

I swallow hard.

In a few minutes, I will be either dead, a killer, or running for my life.

That's enough to make even the Careers shake in their shoes.

Not that any of them are showing it.

I force myself to calm down, to breathe. In and out. In and out.

In and out.

When my eyes open again, I'm feeling marginally better.

And if I can breathe my way through controlling my emotions, then maybe I can force my way through killing someone.

Maybe.

* * *

 **Calico Tailor, age 13**

 **District 8 Female**

* * *

As soon as the hovercraft lands, my stylist, Vita, grabs my hands and drags me off to prepare me for the launch. She gives me a quick, gentle smile as we enter the room I will launch from.

I untie the robe I rode the hovercraft in, and then Vita hands me my outfit. It consists of a gray-green shirt with a thick brown jacket on top, with a pair of greenish stretchy pants and shoes that are good for climbing and running in.

Then my stylist hands me a bowl of hot tomato soup and a hunk of fresh white bread.

"You remembered my favorite soup," I whisper as I eat.

"I figured you deserved a treat," Vita replies.

I give her a smile, as confident as I can make it, and then I take my last bite of bread.

"Ready?" Vita asks.

"As I'll ever be," I reply.

Right on cue, a voice announces that 'the tributes must now enter their launch tubes'.

I shrug on my jacket and give my stylist one last grin.

Here goes...everything.

* * *

 **Salinity Hoffman, age 18**

 **District 4 Female**

* * *

I intended to give the arena a quick, cursory glance before focusing back on the other tributes.

But instead, my attention is held by this place.

It's a castle.

A ruined, crumbling castle, with thousands of staircases and probably tons of traps.

I finally tear my gaze away from the arena and look at the other tributes. We're arranged in a circle around the Cornucopia, and I can see Carlisle three people away from me.

Good. At least I have one ally near me.

10...9...8...

The countdown's almost done.

Almost.

Then the gong sounds.

I immediately spring into action, running for the Cornucopia.

Here we go.

* * *

 **A/N I hope you liked it, and please review!**


	25. The Bloodbath: Burn Like Cold Iron

**A/N Hi everyone! Here's the bloodbath chapter! I'm so going to cry while writing this.**

 **Oh, well.**

 **LET THE 71ST ANNUAL HUNGER GAMES BEGIN!**

* * *

 **Zerine Sunlie, age 15**

 **District 9 Female**

* * *

As soon as the gong sounds, I sprint toward the Cornucopia as fast as my legs can carry me.

I'm totally gonna die, but I'd rather die _now_ trying to get some supplies than die of starvation later.

I run into the girl from District 6, shoving her out of my way. She trips over a gnarled tree root and lands on the ground in front of the boy from District 2.

Hot blood sprays my face and hair as he stabs her through the stomach.

I wince, scrambling toward the nearest backpack. I grab it and sling it over my back before leaping to feet and trying to run.

I make it five feet before slipping in a puddle of something (I don't want to know what), and landing flat on my face.

The next thing I know, there's a blinding pain in my back and everything goes black.

* * *

 **Quentin Ferro, age 18**

 **District 1 Male**

* * *

I pull my sword out of the girl from District 9's back, wincing at the sound it makes. Glancing around, I spot Crimson, creeping up behind the boy from District 8.

So she's fine, now what about...ah. There he is.

Carlisle is standing next to someone's body. I'm not sure who it is, because he cut their head off.

Andromida is on top of the Cornucopia, dancing away from Luciel Tide, who seems to have gotten himself a sword. As I watch, she slices her katana along his throat, graceful as a panther.

He gurgles once, and then topples backward off the Cornucopia.

I sigh to myself, but I know this is a good thing. It means we're not doing badly.

Then I feel a rush of air, and I dart out of the way as a mace buries itself in ground beside me. The boy from District 10 is holding the mace, a wild look in his eyes.

Uh oh.

I lift up my sword, getting ready for a fight. This boy is big, almost bigger than me or Carlisle, but he's not trained. I can take him.

He hefts the mace again, roaring as he charges. I stand my ground, watching and waiting.

And then, I slide my sword between his ribs as he barrels past.

He screeches to a stop, dropping to his knees.

Blood dribbles out of his mouth.

And then he falls.

I wonder if my mentor is proud of me.

* * *

 **Calico Tailor, age 13**

 **District 8 Female**

* * *

Tyler is dead. I was grabbing a pack when I saw the ginger-haired girl from District 2 leap on him and cut his throat.

Now, Carlos and I are running for our lives, desperate to get away from the bloodbath.

This arena is nearly a maze, all staircases and towers and winding hallways. I've only ever seen things like this in history books. It's sort of beautiful, in a weird, crumbling way.

Cassiopeia is dead, too. The boy from District 2 cut her head off.

That hit close to home. She was the same age as me.

But she's dead. And I'm not.

Carlos motions for me to join him in his little niche in the wall. It seems cozy enough. Not that cozy is a big priority right now.

"What now?" he asks once I'm wedged in beside him.

"Now we wait," I say.

"For what?" Carlos asks.

"For the bloodbath to be done."

* * *

 **Salinity Hoffman, age 18**

 **District 4 Female**

* * *

I haven't killed anyone yet, and it's making me mad. _I'm_ supposed to be the leader here. So _why_ does everyone have more kills than me?

Andromida drops lightly off the Cornucopia, carefully avoiding Luciel's body.

Only the tip of her katana is stained red.

I grip my spear tighter.

Just then, I hear a strangled screech. I whirl around and see Carlisle with his sword buried in Cyber Bishop's stomach.

Of _course_.

He yanks his sword out with an almost-smile.

Suddenly, someone runs past me, clearly trying to get away from the bloodbath with some supplies. I sigh and roll my eyes. Hardly a challenge, but it'll do.

I toss my spear, and it buries itself up to the shaft in the back of the boy's neck. He falls forward, dead.

First kill.

Good for me.

I walk over to him and roll him over with my foot. He was the District 11 boy.

Huh.

Oh, well.

It's not like anyone but me was going home anyway.

What does it matter if they're dead by my hand or not?

* * *

 **Willow Thresher, age 18**

 **District 11 Female**

* * *

I'm running to the top of the highest tower. I figure there's no safer place than that.

My tiny backpack bumps against my shoulder as I run, reminding me of how little food I have. My breath is coming in short pants, and it's not just from the running.

I don't think I've ever seen _anything_ so _horrible_ as the bloodbath.

When I finally reach the top of the stairs, my knees buckle and I slip to the ground. Can I survive _more_ battles like the bloodbath?

I don't know.

I don't know if I could do what the Careers did back there.

But I have a feeling I'll have to if I want to go home.

I close my eyes, imagining home. Verdant orchards, bursting with fruit. The feeling of a large basket in my hands as I run around underneath the trees, catching the fruit that the climbers toss down.

A little house, with Mom and all the wards.

My eyes fly open.

For that, I can fight.

I can kill.

* * *

 **Samuel Blackthorn, age 16**

 **District 12 Male**

* * *

Shiela and I are sitting on the wall of the castle. She's staring up into the sky while I look out for other tributes.

So far, there have been none.

They're all probably dead. Or busy killing.

I'm pretty sure Shiela and I are safe for now.

Doesn't mean I'm dropping my guard, though.

"You OK?" Shiela asks softly.

I glance at her. "I'm not hurt. You?"

"Fine," she says. Then she closes her eyes. "Anyone to go back to?"

"A friend," I say, not quite sure why I'm telling her this. "You?"

"My little brother," she says. "He's all I've got."

"Huh," I say.

We lapse into silence.

I lean back against the back of the wall, taking a deep breath. At least the air in this arena is fresh.

Not as coal-dust-filled as the air back home.

I wonder what it's like in District 5.

Not that I'm going to ask.

That would imply that I care.

And, in the Games, caring can kill more surely than any sword.

* * *

 **Perona Destins, age 12**

 **District 3 Female**

* * *

I have never considered myself to be lucky, but today I have been.

I escaped the bloodbath in one piece. That is more than my District partner can say.

I feel a slight pang at the thought of seeing Cyber's face in the sky, but I quickly squash it. No fear, no sentiment.

Not until the Games are done.

Or I'm dead.

Which is more than likely.

After all, I am only twelve.

And never once has a twelve-year-old won the Hunger Games.

I am not optimistic enough to believe that I could be the first, but I am going to try my very best to survive. If I succeed, then being the first twelve-year-old to win the Games will be a bonus.

But I am getting ahead of myself.

For now, I need to survive.

I am sitting a niche that is nearly ten feet off the ground, only accessible by climbing up a tangle of vines that are too thin to hold most people's weight. For once, being underweight is working in my favor.

I lean my head back against the back of the niche, feeling the dampness running down the collar of my shirt.

I do not mind, though.

Comfort is another thing I cannot afford until the Games are done.

* * *

 **Camille Laureline, age 16**

 **District 7 Female**

* * *

I already hate this place. Everything is damp and dank, and this place looks like death.

Cedar gave me a weird look when I told him that, but it _does_ , with all the crumbling walls and dead trees and such.

Even the bits of green moss and vines scattered here and there don't make it seem any better.

I refused to find any actual shelter, because I don't want to hide in a niche or under an archway where there could be any number of rats and spiders and _mutts_. Who knows what kind of terrifying mutts there are in this arena?

So yeah, right now, we're just sort of sitting under a tree-ish thing. Actually, I'm pretty sure it used to be a tree, but now it's just a dead stick with vines all over it.

"So?" I say.

"So what?" Cedar says.

"What did you get?" I say.

"Nothing," he replies. "What did you get?"

"I thought you were getting the supplies!" I yelp.

"No!" Cedar says.

I rub my temples. "Do you mean to tell me that we have _no supplies_!"

Cedar moans and flops back against the wall. "Apparently."

I snort. "Well, this is off to a _great_ start."

"Isn't it just?" Cedar replies.

We both look at each other, and then burst out laughing.

Maybe we're crazy.

But I'd rather be happy and crazy than sad and normal.

* * *

 **A/N Eulogies:**

 **Maia: I'm sorry, PurpleFrenchFryAmy. Maia was fun to write, because she was so mean it was kind of funny, but she wasn't going to make it very far. RIP.**

 **Zerine: All I can really say about her is that she was a lot like Maia, except less mean and more...fun-loving. I'm going to miss her. RIP.**

 **Cassiopeia: I'm super sorry HungerGamesTribute12. Cassiopeia was really interesting tribute, but she wasn't very strong, and I needed bloodbath tributes. RIP.**

 **Luciel: Ohhhh, I'm reeeeaaaalllly going to miss him. He might not have the best reason for volunteering, but I liked him anyway. RIP.**

 **Lathan: I'm definitely going to miss this guy. Lathan was so nice. Too nice for the Games. RIP.**

 **Tyler: I don't really have a lot to say about him. He was a nice guy, and kind of a strong tribute, but I needed more bloodbath tributes. RIP.**

 **Cyber: Oh, Cyber. He wasn't exactly a typical tribute, but he wasn't that interesting either. He was just kind of...average. I'm still sorry to see him go, though. RIP.**

 **Raphael: Oh, I really, really liked him, and I'm going to miss him soooo much. He was an interesting and realistic tribute, and I'm sad to see him go. RIP.**

 **I hope you liked it, and please review!**


	26. Day 1-Afternoon: Before the Storm Breaks

**A/N Hi everyone! Here's another chapter!**

* * *

 **Crimson Legacy, age 17**

 **District 2 Female**

* * *

I've never been so relieved in all my life as I am now.

The bloodbath is over. And I survived.

I'm sitting in the shade of Cornucopia, Andromida beside me. She threw up a few minutes ago, and she still looks rather pale.

Carlisle and Quentin are doing inventory, and Salinity is standing on top of the Cornucopia, keeping watch.

We're probably going to go hunting soon, tomorrow morning at the latest. This evening if Salinity has her way.

Honestly, she's starting to scare me a little bit. I knew she wanted to win, but I didn't realize how much until she started making a speech about how we need to kill as many tributes as possible in the shortest amount of time possible.

I have a horrible feeling that we're all on her list of people to kill. Maybe not at the top, but we're on it.

Everyone in this arena is on it, from that tiny girl from District 3 to the manipulative boy from District 12.

"Hey." Andromida nudges me with her elbow. "You OK?"

"Fine," I say, fighting back a laugh at the irony of a girl who just threw up asking _me_ if _I'm_ OK. "Just thinking."

Andromida smiles, leaning her head back against the cool metal of the Cornucopia. "It's kind of peaceful here, isn't it?"

"Yeah," I say. "Not pretty, but peaceful."

"Exactly," she replies.

Against my will, I look down at the ground, at the blood spattering the stone floor of this ruined castle.

Peaceful it may be for now, but it will not be for much longer.

This is just the calm before the storm.

* * *

 **Shiela Winters, age 16**

 **District 5 Female**

* * *

I don't like how quiet it is here.

There's something almost disturbing about the utter _lack_ of sound.

It doesn't seem to bother Samuel, though. I wonder if District 12 is this quiet.

I know it's not a city, not like District 5, so maybe it is.

Glancing over at him, I notice that his eyes are trained on the glittering, metallic spot that is the Cornucopia. We're pretty far away from it, but it's still always there.

Like a threat.

"They'll be hunting soon," Samuel says.

"I figured," I reply.

"How do you want to play it?" he asks.

I think for a moment, before saying, "Avoidance is our best bet."

"I was thinking that, too," he replies.

We lapse into silence.

I hate the quiet, which is weird because normally, I'm a fairly quiet person. But, back home, when I'm quiet, there's always noise in the background.

Here, when I'm quiet, there's _nothing_ but silence and it's driving me _crazy_.

Trying to block the quiet out, I focus on the Cornucopia. I can just barely see the Careers, one perched atop the Cornucopia itself, two sitting near its base, and the last two near its mouth, presumably sorting supplies.

Sorting supplies.

So they _will_ be hunting soon.

I let out a breath.

Let them come.

They will not find us.

* * *

 **Willow Thresher, age 18**

 **District 11 Female**

* * *

Being in a tower, all alone, gets really boring real fast.

It's only been a couple of hours since the bloodbath, but already I'm bored out of my mind, which is not good, because the only excitement I'm liable to get around here is being chased by Careers or killing other tributes.

Nonetheless, I'm bored.

So.

How entertain myself without being chased or killing.

It's rather sad that I'm actually seriously considering this question. I really never thought I'd be here.

And now I'm depressed and bored.

Yippee.

I sigh deeply, shutting my eyes against the bright light of the sun. When my eyes are closed, I can imagine that I'm home. With Quail. And Mom. And Ginny, and Cher, and Barry, and Abby.

I wish I could just go _home_.

I shake my head to clear it. If I want to go home, then I _can't_ afford to think about it. Because then I'll start missing it, and if my mind is clouded with sentiment, then I can't do what has to be done.

So maybe I shouldn't think about home.

After all, if it's going to make me weak, then why do it?

I bite my lip.

Yes. That's what I'll do.

I won't think of home.

Not until the Games are done.

* * *

 **Carlos Albedo, age 12**

 **District 5 Male**

* * *

Calico talks a lot.

She's really nice and all, but she talks and she talks and she _talks_ , and I'm pretty sure most of it is for the benefit of the cameras. I don't get why she cares.

I mean, the people behind those cameras are the ones who sent us here to die.

Maybe she's trying for sponsors, but I doubt if that'll work.

"-and so I think we should try raiding the Careers while they're out hunting."

I blink in astonishment, only catching the tail end of her last sentence, but that's enough. " _What_?!"

"Hah! That got your attention," Calico says happily. "But I'm serious. The girl from District 3 did it last year, and she made it really far. I know it sounds crazy, but we don't have a lot of supplies, so..." She trails off, but her meaning is clear.

There's no natural food in this arena. So, unfortunately, her idea actually makes a weird kind of sense.

"OK," I say.

Her mouth drops open. "Wow, I was expecting to have to convince you! But, it's cool that I don't!"

I laugh, and then say, "You do realize this means we're going to have to get closer to the Cornucopia, right?"

"Actually, we don't," Calico says. "All we have to do is find a nice, tall tower to climb up, and then we can keep an eye on the Careers from a distance!"

I have to admit, she's definitely thought this through.

"All right," I say. "We should get going on finding that tower."

She laughs, and it's the nicest sound I've heard since coming into this arena.

* * *

 **Perona Destins, age 12**

 **District 3 Female**

* * *

The sun is starting to go down, in a blaze of red and gold.

The Gamemakers are really going all out for our first sunset. I wonder how many more I will see in this place.

Hopefully not too many.

I now have a plan, however twisted it might be. The Careers are not the only ones who will go hunting tomorrow.

The first phase of my plan involves eliminating as many of the other tributes as I can. Specifically, I have my eye on the boy from District 5 and the girl from District 8, as they seem to be the easiest targets.

The second phase is trickier. I have to get the Career pack to self-destruct.

It happens in every Games, but if I can turn that explosion to my favor, I may just have a chance.

Is it risky? Yes.

Could I get myself killed? Definitely. But I made my peace with that long ago.

If I pull it off, will I win? Almost certainly.

In my opinion, the benefits of this plan far outweigh the possibility of failure.

And if it does fail?

Well, then, I won't be any worse off than any other twelve-year-old who has entered the arena.

* * *

 **A/N I hope you liked it, and please review!**


	27. Day 2: Darkness Descending

**A/N Hi everyone! Here's another chapter!**

* * *

 **Quentin Ferro, age 18**

 **District 1 Male**

* * *

Morning has always been a favorite time of day for me. I'm glad that hasn't changed in the arena.

Last night was weirdly quiet. Like that stillness that comes right before a lightning bolt splits the sky.

I have a feeling our lightning bolt is coming, but I don't know where it'll hit.

Andromida is kneeling by the fire Crimson lit a few minutes ago, stirring something in a pot and humming to herself. She was up even before me, watching the sunrise.

Salinity is sitting on top of the Cornucopia again, sharpening her spear. The watery morning light plays on the weapon, giving it a dull sheen.

I can't help but wonder how long it'll be before that spear is finds its mark in one of us.

Carlisle and Crimson are sitting next to the fire, chatting softly with each other.

I smile to myself. This is about as close to peace and quiet as I'm going to get in this arena. I might as well enjoy it.

"Breakfast is ready!" Andromida chirps, snapping me out of my thoughts.

Crimson and Carlisle are already scooping some kind of mush into their bowls. I shift my own bowl to my left hand and then head over to the fire. Salinity drops to the ground and picks up a bowl.

Pretty soon, everyone has their breakfast, which turns out to be oatmeal with dried cranberries and honey in it. How Andromida managed to whip this up here, I don't know.

But I'm really happy about it.

"So," Salinity says after several minutes of silence, "when do we hunt?"

"As soon as we're done eating," I put in. "Right, guys?"

Everyone nods, even Carlisle.

Hey, maybe we won't kill each other.

I'm not going to hold my breath, though.

Salinity smiles without any humor whatsoever, and chills run up and down my spine.

Good-bye, peace and quiet.

* * *

 **James Miller, age 18**

 **District 9 Male**

* * *

I've been curled up in a corner for a while now, and I'm starting to get pretty hungry.

After escaping the bloodbath, I ran as far away as I could. Now I'm starting to regret not picking up some supplies.

Something goes _snap_ about twenty feet away, and I sit up very straight. I know I should probably stay still, but I can't help myself. A shadow darts past, hair flying.

Uh oh.

Another _crack_ , and the shadow darts up a tangle of vines on the wall.

I scramble to my feet. "Who's there?"

Then it dawns on my that this might not be a person. It might be a mutt.

No answer.

That does not bode well.

There's another scrabbling sound, then a heavy weight lands on my back, forcing all the air out of my lungs.

I feel a blinding pain across my throat just before everything goes black.

* * *

 **Perona Destins, age 12**

 **District 3 Female**

* * *

The cannon sounds as I jump off the boy from District 9's back. I have just killed a person.

And I feel strangely unemotional.

Shaking my head to clear it, I stand up and dust my hands off. The cameras are most likely on me, so I cannot show weakness. Not that I feel like crying or anything. I honestly feel absolutely nothing.

I tuck my bloodied knife back into my backpack and then shoulder it. I'll clean it later.

As quietly as possible, I slip away from the District 9 boy's body, climbing back up the vines and scrambling along until I reach a niche in the wall. I climb into that and rest for a second before continuing my crawl along the vines until I reach my hiding spot.

If I stick the shadowy places, no one will see me coming. No one will expect their death to come from above.

And that's precisely how I want it.

Leaning back against the wall, I shut my eyes, a tiny smile forming on my face. So far, my plan is going fairly well.

But I cannot afford to become complacent.

As if to drive that point home, a scrabbling sound suddenly starts up from right beneath my niche. I freeze like a startled rabbit, holding my breath.

The scrabbling continues, claws scraping against stone.

Something is crawling around on the walls. A mutt, most likely.

Eventually, the scraping fades away as the mutt moves on, heading down the wall.

I find myself hoping that it will kill someone today.

After all, every tribute that dies is one less I have to kill.

* * *

 **Willow Thresher, age 18**

 **District 11 Female**

* * *

I keep hearing weird noises, and I'm starting to get concerned.

It started about ten minutes ago, a scraping noise like someone was clawing at the stone walls. And then it didn't stop. It still hasn't, actually.

I carefully slide a small knife out of my backpack, hoping I won't have to use it. The scraping gets louder. I think whatever's making it is getting closer.

Gulping, I raise the knife higher.

And then, before I realize what's happening, a blood-red, scaly _thing_ materializes in front of me, peering through the window of the tower. It snarls, baring huge, crooked teeth.

I shriek at the top of my lungs, because I had expected a fellow tribute. Maybe the girl from District 3. She looked like she could be a good climber.

But no. It's a mutt.

A terrifying, awful mutt.

I swallow back another scream, holding my knife out with shaking hands. "St-stay back."

The creature cocks its head, looking almost curious. Then it opens its mouth and sprays a jet of blindingly neon green stuff. It hits me square in the chest.

And instantly I feel pain unlike anything I've ever felt in my entire life.

The last thing I think is that it must be some kind of acid, and then everything goes black.

* * *

 **Shiela Winters, age 16**

 **District 5 Female**

* * *

Two cannons have sounded in the past forty minutes.

People are dying almost too fast for me to keep track. I know I should be glad, because every time a tribute dies, I get closer to going home, but all I feel is dread. Dread that soon, perhaps sooner than I thought, I'll have to turn on Samuel.

The worst part?

I'm not sure I can beat him. I'm not really sure I can beat anyone.

But I know I'll have to, if I want to go home. And I _have_ to go home.

"Who do you think that was?"

I jump, turning around and looking at Samuel. He looks contemplative.

"I dunno," I reply. "I hope at least one of them was a Career."

Samuel snorts. "Me too, but I doubt it."

I sigh, because there's nothing I can really say to that.

It's getting close to afternoon, now, and Samuel and I haven't really moved since yesterday. That's nearly twenty-four hours.

I'm surprised my legs aren't cramping up or something.

"We should go somewhere," I say.

Samuel looks at me like I'm crazy. "Why?"

"Because I'm bored," I say, stretching out my legs.

"I hate you," he says, but there's no real heat behind it.

I grin at him. "No you don't."

"Do so."

"Do not."

"Do _so_."

"Do _not_."

"Are you five years old?" he asks finally, shaking his head.

"Right back at you."

He laughs.

I smile, feeling, against all odds, happy.

Weirdly enough, I'm also no longer bored.

* * *

 **Egan Alice, age 13**

 **District 6 Male**

* * *

I've been alone since the bloodbath, where I just ran for the hills as fast as I could go. I'm currently holed up in a literal hole-in-the-wall, wondering who died and whether I should be concerned.

I probably should be.

I should always be concerned in these Games.

Leaning my head back against the wall, I sigh. I sort of miss Maia, as weird as that sounds. She was mean, sure, but she was someone from home. And I miss home now more than ever. I wish I could go back.

I wish I had a _chance_ to go back.

Because I don't. Have a chance, that is.

I realized that the second I saw the bloodbath. So now I'm just sort of sitting here, waiting patiently for someone or something to come and kill me.

After all, I'm not a Victor.

I'm just a mechanic's kid.

Really, I never even had a shot. It's just taken me a little while to realize that.

My legs are starting to fall asleep, so I stretch them out, knocking a rock out into the courtyard in front of me. Instantly, a huge red creature drops out from absolutely nowhere, landing on the rock.

I shrink backward, closing my eyes.

Nothing happens.

When I finally get up the courage to open my eyes again, the creature is gone.

But I have a feeling it's still out there.

So much for waiting patiently to die.

* * *

 **A/N Eulogies:**

 **James: Sorry, Greywolf44. I just couldn't think of any kind of character arc or anything to do with this guy. I didn't dislike him, but I just couldn't think of anything to do with him. RIP.**

 **Willow: Oooooh, I'm reeeeaaaalllllyyy going to miss her! She was so great and her _family_...but she was never going to last very long. Sorry, BloodedInk. **

**I hope you liked this chapter, and please review!**


	28. Day 3: Dying Light

**A/N Hi everyone! Before we get started, I have an exciting announcement! Submissions are now open for my next SYOT! This one is going to be called 'Frost Bite', and (as usual) it'll be a sequel to this one. Check out my profile for more info. I can't wait to see what awesome tributes you guys give me!**

 **OK, now that you've all listened to me ramble, here's the chapter!**

* * *

 **Calico Tailor, age 13**

 **District 8 Female**

* * *

Sneaking up on a pack of sleeping Careers is the biggest adrenaline rush I've ever had. I feel like I could run a thousand miles.

And I might have to, if any of them wake up. Still, I can't stop smiling as we creep closer and closer to the Cornucopia.

Carlos gulps loudly for about the fourth time. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Not at all," I whisper back.

"Wonderful," he mutters.

I suppress a nervous giggle. Don't want to alert the Careers to our presence.

A loud rumbling sound suddenly splits the silence, and Carlos and I both go absolutely still. My mind blanks with such terror that I don't realize what that sound is for almost five minutes. When I do, I nearly laugh.

"Someone's snoring," I whisper as quietly as possible.

Carlos breathes a sigh of relief.

The closer we get to the Cornucopia, the more I'm starting to question this plan. Of course, our _original_ plan was to do this while the Careers were hunting, but we both got so hungry that we decided to risk it.

Now I'm wondering if I couldn't have lived with a growling stomach for a little longer.

Oh, well. Too late to turn back now.

We finally reach the Cornucopia and duck inside. It's warm and stuffy in here, and, for some reason, I feel a little bit safer.

"All right," I say. "Let's do this fast."

Carlos nods, and then starts grabbing any supplies he can reach. I pick up a backpack, a couple of full water bottles, a small knife, and several packages of crackers. Enough to survive on, but not so much that the Careers will notice.

I nod to Carlos, and we slip toward the mouth of the Cornucopia. My heart is pounding so loudly I'm pretty sure Carlos can hear it. We sneak carefully out, past the tents and the fire pit, and towards a crumbling section of wall. I picked this place out yesterday as the perfect hiding spot for me and my ally.

As soon as we are out of the actual camp area, we both break into a sprint, ducking behind the wall as if we are being pursued by spears and arrows.

Then we both burst into soft, hysterical laughter. And once I start, I can't seem to stop.

Finally, I manage to calm down, my stomach aching and tears rolling down my cheeks. "I don't - I don't know what's so funny!"

That only seems to make Carlos laugh harder, even as he shakes his head.

I lean my head back against the wall, tearing open one of my packages of crackers. "You want one?"

He nods, wiping his eyes. "Sure."

We smash our crackers together like normal people do with wine glasses, and then I take a bite. It tastes like powdered cement, but it's better than nothing.

And better than nothing is, at the moment, the goal I'm aiming for.

* * *

 **Clementine Willis, age 16**

 **District 12 Female**

* * *

Ever since I saw Cassiopeia's face in the sky that first night, I've barely moved. I've been crying on and off as well, and I have literally no energy.

I'm probably going to die soon, so it doesn't really matter anyway. I'd like to win, of course, but I don't think I've ever really had it in me.

Suddenly, I hear a strange hissing noise. Feeling careless and curious, I poke my head out of the bush I've been hiding in. My mouth instantly drops open, and a ball of solid horror expands in my chest.

There's a giant, scarlet mutt less than twenty feet away from me, clinging to the wall above a niche. It's huge, bulbous eyes are fixed on a spot on the ground, just in front of the niche.

I swallow hard, hoping this thing hasn't seen me yet. It opens its mouth and makes a weird, croaking roar. Someone whimpers from inside the niche, and my mouth drops open again.

So that's why it's here. This mutt isn't hunting me, but it is hunting.

I should leave.

But somehow, I don't want to.

I managed to grab a sizable knife from the bloodbath, like the kind my mother used to cut bread. I could kill this thing.

Or I could get myself killed.

In an instant, my mind is made up. I'm going to die anyway, so I might as well go out fighting.

I pick my knife from the spot where I dropped it, and then run out of my bush, waving the knife and shrieking like a madwoman. The mutt looks completely stunned, and I don't blame it.

Unfortunately for it, that moment of shock gives me the time I need to jump on its back and drive my knife into its skull. I didn't even know I could jump that high.

The mutt makes an awful screaming sound, spreading a pair of huge wings and taking off, me still on its back, before finally going still and plummeting to the ground. I manage to leap off just in time to avoid being squashed.

I land hard in the dirt, the wind knocked out of my lungs. Weirdly enough, I don't really mind. I feel a bizarre sense of triumph.

Rolling over onto my stomach, I let out a breathy laugh. My knife is still stuck in the mutt's skull, but I don't want to get up and get it just yet.

"Wow," a voice says, and I immediately leap to my feet.

"Who said that?"

"Me," the voice says again.

I glance around wildly.

"Down here."

I look down, toward the niche, and see a small, red-haired boy on his hands and knees, his head poking out of the niche.

"Oh," I say. "Hi."

"Hi," he says back.

There's silence, after that, and I'm starting to feel very awkward. What are you supposed to say to a person after you've killed the mutt that was hunting them?

"Thanks for that," the boy says at last, gesturing the mutt's corpse.

"You're welcome," I say.

He gets out of his niche, brushes his pants off, and then holds out one hand. "Egan Alice, District 6."

"Clementine Willis, District 12," I say, taking his hand.

"You were allies with the District 10 girl, right?" he asks.

My throat closes up as I nod.

Egan bites his lip. "Sorry."

"'S fine," I say.

"Would you wanna be allies with me?" he asks, and he looks so hopeful that I can't say no.

"All right."

His faces breaks in a smile.

Maybe this'll end better than last time.

* * *

 **Andromida Nyx Lede, age 18**

 **District 1 Female**

* * *

"We've been walking for _literally hours_!" I yell. "My feet are killing me, can we _please_ take a break?"

Salinity glances backward at me, sighs, and then yells, "Fine!"

Everyone groans with relief, plopping themselves down on the nearest pieces of stone or just on the ground. It's boiling hot today, and Salinity insisted we go hunting right after breakfast.

I open my bottle of water, drinking the icy liquid greedily.

"I'm so hot," Crimson moans. "I've never been this hot."

Carlisle looks at her contemplatively. "You don't look any hotter than usual."

Crimson gives him a withering look. "Not _that_ kind of hot."

He grins at her, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

Salinity rolls her eyes. "Can we please concentrate? It's day three and we haven't had a single kill since the bloodbath. The audience is _going_ to get bored."

"All right, all right, sheesh," Crimson says. "Just a couple more minutes, OK?"

"Fine," Salinity huffs.

I stretch, staring up at the towers surrounding me. Wait a minute. The towers...

"I have an idea," I announce.

Everyone looks at me.

"What if we climbed up one of those towers? I'll bet we could see the whole arena from up there."

"Huh," Quentin says. "That could work."

"I'm down," Crimson says.

"In," says Carlisle.

We all look at Salinity, who sighs, but a smile is tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Sure. Anything to get moving again."

I laugh at that, and then we all get up, stuffing our water bottles back into our backpacks, and strapping our weapons back onto our belts.

The entrance to the nearest tower is not far away, so it doesn't take long to there. Then we start climbing the stairs for what feels like hours. I didn't know there were so many stairs in the entire _world_.

Eventually, though, we reach the top, and then the climb is _totally_ worth it.

"I was right," I say, leaning out the window. "We can see the whole arena from up here."

"Uh huh," Salinity says, eyes roving over the landscape, looking for tributes.

I reach out the window and into the air, half expecting my fingertips to brush the sky and come away blue. A deliciously cool breeze blows my hair back, and giggle softly. I've always loved heights. There's just something about them that makes me feel free.

"Hey! Look!" Carlisle suddenly yells, snapping me out of my thoughts.

He's pointing back toward the Cornucopia, where two small people are heading for our camp.

"They're stealing our stuff!" Salinity shrieks, outrage twisting her face.

"Come on!" Crimson yells, leading the charge downstairs.

I feel a slight surge of nausea as I realize that, very soon, I might have to kill again. I feel bad enough about Luciel.

Shaking my head to clear it, I pour a little extra speed into my run.

I can't afford to think that way.

Not now, at least.

* * *

 **Perona Destins, age 12**

 **District 3 Female**

* * *

I have been following the District 8 girl and the District 5 boy all day, waiting for my chance to strike. So far, an opportunity has not presented itself, but I am patient.

After all, the Hunger Games is not won in a day.

At the moment, they are stealing from the Careers again. Not a particularly intelligent move on their part, but oh, well.

They disappeared inside the Cornucopia nearly five minutes ago. I cannot help but wonder what is taking them so long.

Suddenly, I hear the sound of running feet, and I duck inside a scraggly bush just before the Careers run past. My eyes widen. Perhaps I won't have to kill them after all.

"Where are they?" the girl from District 4 says, glaring furiously.

"They can't have left!" says the girl from District 2.

Naturally, the boy from District 5 chooses this moment to emerge from the Cornucopia. He screams at the sight of the Careers, drops his stolen goods, and runs for his life. The boy and girl from District 2 give chase.

I idly wonder how far he'll get.

The boy from District 1 turns to scratch his head, and the two girls are staring in the direction Carlisle and Crimson disappeared in. Which is why none of them notice as the girl from District 8 slips out of the Cornucopia, and then climbs on top of it.

My eyes widen as I realize that she's clutching a knife. I did not think she had it in her.

Unfortunately for her, the Careers have trained all their lives for this. They are not about to be taken unawares by a thirteen-year-old.

As the District 8 girl jumps, the girl from District 4 wheels around, bringing up her spear so that Calico impales herself.

Right through the chest.

Her cannon booms in the silence left behind.

The girl from District 1 looks vaguely ill, her hand over her mouth, and even her District partner looks shocked.

Salinity drops the spear nonchalantly, and then says, "Wonder where Carlisle and Crimson are."

Andromida gives her a half-horrified-half-incredulous look, and then turns away. Her District partner sighs and goes after her.

I decide now would be a good time for me to leave. As I quietly creep away from the scene at the Cornucopia, a feeling of nervousness begins to gnaw at my stomach. My carefully-laid plan is starting to fall apart.

What will be left by the time we reach the finale?

* * *

 **A/N Eulogies:**

 **Calico: I'm so, so, soooooooo sorry, PurpleFrenchFryAmy. I really loved Calico, she was so sassy and fun and just generally _great_ , but she was a little too nice for the Games. I'll really miss her. RIP. **

**Quick reminder to submit to Frost Bite! You know, if you feel so inclined.**

 **I hope you liked this chapter, and please review!**


	29. Day 4: Blood on the Breeze

**A/N Hi everyone! Here's another chapter!**

* * *

 **Crimson Legacy, age 17**

 **District 2 Female**

* * *

Quentin burned breakfast. He also set himself on fire.

Why he thought it was a good idea for him to cook, I'll never know.

Right now, Andromida is trying to bandage his burnt arm while I attempt to salvage the food. Apparently, because I'm a girl, I should cook.

Blergh.

"This is freaking impossible," I mutter under my breath, poking at the oatmeal sludge I have created.

"You're doing fine," Salinity says from her spot on top of the Cornucopia. "That's how oatmeal is supposed to look."

"Seriously?" I say, raising my eyebrows in disbelief.

"Have you never had oatmeal before?" Carlisle asks.

"No."

"Wow."

Quentin sighs. "Sorry about this, guys."

"For the twentieth time, it's fine," I say. "Just...promise you'll never cook again."

"That I can do."

" _Good_ ," says Salinity emphatically.

Andromida laughs, tying off the bandage on Quentin's arm. "OK, you're done."

"Thanks," he says.

She grins, getting to her feet and then swaying dizzily. Quentin grabs her arm to prevent her from falling over.

"I'm fine," Andromida says. "Just stood up too fast."

Quentin still looks concerned, but he lets go of her. Salinity rolls her eyes.

"I give up," I announce. "I wasn't that hungry anyway."

Carlisle peers into the pot and immediately choruses his assent.

"Fine," Salinity says. "Then let's go hunting."

Instantly, the air is charged with tension, and I get a sinking feeling in my stomach. I know something happened while Carlisle and I were chasing the boy from District 5, but I'm not sure what. Clearly, it was bigger than I thought.

Salinity seems to notice it, as she rolls her eyes and groans. "You two _still_ hung up on yesterday?"

"You didn't have to do that," Quentin says softly, but there's steel in his voice.

"Yeah, I _did_ ," Salinity says. "If I hadn't killed that girl, she would have killed one of us. And anyway, isn't this what you _signed up for_?"

"We didn't sign up for this," Andromida says.

Salinity throws her hands up in the air. "Oh, come _on_. You've both killed, so why is it such a big deal when I do it?"

"Because you were _smiling_ , dang it!"

The entire arena seems to quiet at Quentin's shout. I feel like someone's just pulled a rug out from under my feet and I'm spinning through the air, trying to make sense of what is happening.

I knew Salinity is willing to do whatever it takes to when. I knew she was even a little bit bloodthirsty. But _smiling_? While _killing_ someone?

That's messed up, even to a person who grew up in the most famously bloodthirsty District in Panem.

Salinity rolls her eyes again. "If you don't like it, you can leave!"

"Maybe we will!" Quentin snaps.

My eyes go wide. This was not supposed to happen just yet. Not until the final eight, at least.

Everything sort of slows down around me, Quentin and Salinity and Andromida still yelling at each other, Carlisle getting to his feet and trying to get them to stop, and me, just sort of sitting here with a stunned expression on my face. I should probably make a different face, since every camera in the vicinity is most likely on us, but I can't.

Finally, Quentin shakes his head in disgust, grabs his sword and his emergency pack (Andromida put together emergency packs for all of us in case we got separated. Now I have to wonder if she's been planning for this all along.), and Andromida does the same, except she grabs her katana instead of a sword.

And they leave. Just like that.

Carlisle flops down on the ground, one hand over his eyes.

I think Artemis may have been right.

I shouldn't have volunteered.

* * *

 **Carlos Albedo, age 12**

 **District 5 Male**

* * *

I didn't think anything in the entire world could hurt this much. But Calico's death opened up a giant, raw wound in my heart and it won't go away.

I'm not even sure how I got away from the Careers. I was so sure they'd find me when I ducked into this niche, but they didn't. I haven't moved since. Don't really want to.

I don't even know what I'd do if I did move. I can't try stealing from the Careers again, and, as far as I know, there's nothing edible in this place, unless I want to try eating rocks or the weird moss and lichen and ivy that grows all over the place.

Although I'm pretty sure that stuff is poisonous, because why not?

There's also the bushes, but they're covered in thorns and also probably poisonous, so, really, there's nothing to eat.

Maybe, when the Careers go hunting again, I could go back to where Calico and I hid the food and just get that. I wouldn't steal anything else.

A tiny bubble of hope starts to expand in my chest.

Yeah. I think I'll do that.

I crawl out of my niche, glancing around to make sure there are no other tributes in the vicinity. All I see is giant, reptilian statue, looming over the courtyard.

I breathe a sigh of relief, getting to my feet. As soon as I pass into where the statue's line of sight would be, there's a cracking sound and the statue...moves.

My lungs contract with horror. This is no statue.

It's a mutt.

A pair of terrible, blank grayish eyes fly open, and the creature spreads an enormous pair of wings. It hops off the pedestal with such force that the stone cracks under its claws.

I scream, trying desperately to scramble away from it.

But it's too fast. For such a huge creature, it moves like a lightning bolt.

Within a second, it's upon me, a giant claw coming down on my chest with the force of a freight train. I scream again, feeling my ribs snap.

The last thing I feel is blinding pain, and the last thing I see is horrifyingly long, sharp teeth.

And then everything goes black.

* * *

 **Egan Alice, age 13**

 **District 6 Male**

* * *

I'm starting to fall asleep against Clementine's shoulder when the cannon booms. My head snaps up, my eyes widening. Clementine gulps, hard.

"Who do you think that was?" she asks.

"I dunno," I say.

"I hope it wasn't Samuel," Clementine whispers.

"Why?"

"He's all I've got left of home."

My heart clenches just a little bit. I didn't like Maia much, but at least she was someone from home.

Seeming to realize what she just said, Clementine claps a hand over her mouth. "Oh, Egan. I'm so sorry."

I wave my hand in the air. "It's fine."

There's a long pause, and then Clementine says, "I wish I could just go home."

I lean my head back against the cold stone of the wall, my heart aching as I think about Apollo, Mom, and Dad. I miss them all more than I can put into words.

"Me too."

We both lapse into silence. The wind rustles a leaf across the stones, and I can't help but jump just a little bit. It sounds far too much like how that mutt did, hanging on the wall above me, just waiting for me to come out.

Nope. Stop thinking about it.

I shift into a more comfortable position, staring up at the sky. It's almost unnaturally blue.

Not that anything in this arena is natural in the first place.

* * *

 **Perona Destins, age 12**

 **District 3 Female**

* * *

I am on the hunt. With Calico dead, I have been in need of a new target. And I think I have found the perfect one in the boy from District 6.

The District 6 boy and his ally, the girl from District 12, have been sitting in one place all day. It would be almost ridiculously easy for me to sneak up and kill them both.

But I will not. Yet.

I'm waiting for dusk, when they'll both be drowsy and off-guard. When I killed the boy from District 9, he was alert, and that almost cost me greatly.

I will not make such a mistake again.

Twirling my knife in my fingers, I idly wonder if the cameras are on me. Most likely. The Capitol loves to see drama, and it doesn't get more dramatic than a twelve-year-old stalking and killing her older opponents.

I scoot forward, crawling on my stomach until a reach a small bush. The one good thing about these bushes is that are lots of them, and they are dense enough to make decent hiding spots. Or spots from which to watch your prey.

The girl from District 12 stretches, her arms flung above her head. She yawns. The heat is most likely making her sleepy.

All the better for me.

Most people would be getting fairly bored by now, but I am used to sitting still for long periods of time. In fact, I rather enjoy it, because I know that once the wait is over, I'll have a sweet reward.

In this case, my reward will be becoming the first twelve-year-old Victor of the Hunger Games.

* * *

 **A/N Eulogies:**

 **Carlos: I'm really sorry, Elim9. I loved Carlos, but he was way too sweet for the Hunger Games. I'm going to miss him a lot. RIP.**

 **I hope you liked this chapter, and please review!**

 **P.S. Thanks to everyone who's submitted to Frost Bite! You guys are awesome!**


	30. Day 5: The Wild Things

**A/N Hi everyone! Here's another chapter!**

* * *

 **Samuel Blackthorn, age 16**

 **District 12 Male**

* * *

I've been on watch all night. Shiela was supposed to take the second watch, but after she saw Carlos's face in the sky, she cried herself to sleep and I didn't have the heart to wake her.

I'm getting soft. And, somehow, I don't really care.

Shiela stirs sleepily, her eyelids fluttering. She looks...peaceful, which is not usually a word I'd associate with her. Finally, her eyes open, and she yawns.

"Morning," I say.

She smiles softly. "Morning." Then her brow furrows. "Were you on watch all night?"

"Maybe," I mutter.

"You're really just a big teddy bear, aren't you?" Shiela says, a smirk starting to curl her lips.

I glare at her, but there's no real heat behind it. "Don't ruin my reputation."

"Never," she says, bumping my shoulder with her own.

I grin, feeling the bizarre urge to laugh bubbling up inside me. I never thought I'd make a friend in the _Hunger Games_ of all places, but here I am. Life really is full of surprises.

"So," I say. "What do you want to do today?"

"I dunno," Shiela says. "What did we do yesterday?"

"We sat here," I say with a smile. "All day."

"Right," Shiela laughs. "And we did that the day before yesterday, too."

"Yup," I say.

"We have _got_ to move," she says.

"Probably," I say.

And it's true. We are running a little low on food, even though we've been rationing. After all, we only had two bags to start with, and, now, all we have is two packs of crackers, a tin of dried beef strips, and two nearly-full water bottles.

All things considered, that's probably enough for two more days, at most. Since we don't know how long these Games will last, we definitely need more food.

"Where do you want to go?" Shiela asks.

"I think," I say slowly, "we need more food."

"I know," Shiela says, her face growing grim. "But there's only one place we can get that."

I nod. She doesn't need to say it. We both know.

The Cornucopia, AKA the home of the most bloodthirsty, vicious tributes in this whole arena: The Careers.

"There's no way we'll survive going there," I say.

"If we cut down a little more, we might make it three or four days with what we've got," Shiela says.

I bite my lip. I've never been one to take unnecessary risks, and I'm not about to start. Shiela's plan is a good one, and, with a little luck, it'll take us to the finale.

"OK," I say. "So how much are we cutting down?"

Shiela laughs at that, and, although I'm not sure what's so funny, I laugh with her.

* * *

 **Carlisle De Amire, age 18**

 **District 2 Male**

* * *

Ever since Quentin and Andromida left, things have been very quiet. Crimson is miserable, Salinity is furious, and I...I don't quite know what to think.

I never liked Quentin. That I know. But Andromida...she was genuinely nice. I sort of miss her unfailing optimism and her way of lightening tense situations. I even miss her throwing up all over the place.

I shake my head to clear it. Likely as not, the next time I see her, we'll be on opposite sides. I can't afford to miss her.

Crimson sighs. "So, who's gonna cook breakfast? Or are we just eating cold food now?"

"Do whatever you want," Salinity says. "I'm not hungry."

"Cold food it is, then," Crimson says with a slight smile.

She's probably thinking about yesterday, when she tried to cook. That had not ended very well.

Andromida was really the only one of us who could cook at all. I have a feeling we'll be eating a lot of cold food now that she's gone.

It's strange how that thought gives me a pang of sadness.

Crimson comes out of the Cornucopia, holding a bag full of soft bread rolls and jar of dried fruit. "Here. Breakfast."

I can't help the laugh that bubbles out of my throat. Crimson gives me a weird look, but I just shrug and take a roll. She sits down beside me, taking a bite of what looks like a dried apple.

"So," I say.

"So," she says.

"Rough day yesterday, huh?" I say, taking a bite of my bread.

"Yeah," Crimson mutters. "I still can't believe they're really gone."

"The Career pack always breaks up," I say. "It was bound to happen eventually."

"I know," she says softly. "I just...I guess I didn't think it would be so _soon_."

I sigh, softly. "Me neither."

She smiles, just a tiny bit. For some reason, a warm glow fills my chest.

I take another bite of my roll.

This is nice. Peaceful, almost.

But it won't last.

Peace never does in these Games.

* * *

 **Andromida Nyx Lede, age 18**

 **District 1 Female**

* * *

I miss Crimson. I mean, Quentin's great and all, but he's not particularly good at small talk (or talk in general), and I'm starting to get bored.

"Quentin?" I say.

He looks up from where he's sharpening his sword. "Huh?"

"If you win, what do you want to do when you get home?"

Quentin blinks at me. "What?"

"Is there anything you've, like, always wanted to do but didn't have enough money, or something?" I ask.

"Um..."

"I'll tell you what I'm going to do," I say, smiling. "I'm going to buy all my favorite books and make my own library. And I'm also going to buy one of those pretty decorated cakes from the bakery, and I'm going to split it with my sister. We'll each eat half."

"Wow," Quentin says. "You've given this a lot of thought."

"Not really," I say. "Your turn. What do you want to do?"

He takes a deep breath. "Promise you won't laugh."

"OK, I promise."

"I want to buy a cat."

My jaw drops with amazement. "Seriously?"

"You said you wouldn't laugh!" he says.

"I'm not laughing!" I yelp. "What kind of cat?"

"Now you're making fun," he says.

"Am not. Now answer the question."

"I dunno. I've always liked...have you ever seen a Snowshoe cat?"

"Yeah."

"I want one of those."

"Awwww," I say. "What are you going to call it?"

"I'd have to get one, first," he says with a laugh.

"Well, that sounds cool," I say.

"I've never told anybody that before," Quentin says.

"I kind of hate to break it to you," I say, "but I think you just told all of Panem."

He groans. "Cameras. I forgot about the cameras."

I can't hold in a laugh as I pat him on the shoulder. "I'm sure it'll be fine."

"My little sister is probably watching this."

"OK, maybe it won't be fine."

He laughs at that, but I'm serious. I know if Veraline ever heard me say something like that, she'd _never_ let me live it down.

I sit down next to Quentin on his crumbling piece of rock. He's still smiling as he resumes sharpening his sword.

Just then, I hear a rustling sound, like someone walking through a pile of dead leaves.

Quentin's head snaps up.

My eyes widen.

And then the tributes from District 7 walk around the corner.

* * *

 **Camille Laureline, age 16**

 **District 7 Female**

* * *

The Careers are here. Well, two of them at least.

Fudge.

The only upside is that they both look just as startled as me and Cedar.

The downside is that they both have swords. And they probably know how to use them.

We're gonna die.

That feeling is only reinforced as the boy from District 1 pulls out his sword and starts walking towards us. Cedar shrieks and tries to run, but he trips on a loose stone and nearly lands flat on his face.

And neither of us have any weapons.

"Wait, Quentin!" the girl from District 1 screams. "Stop!"

Amazingly, he stops. "Andromida..."

Cedar starts scrambling backward, and then there's a loud crack. All of our heads snap around to see the large, reptilian statue that we'd all been ignoring up until now start to move.

Andromida and I scream in perfect unison.

Cedar's eyes go so wide I'm afraid they might pop out of his head, and Quentin's knuckles go white on his sword.

Then the statue, or rather, the mutt, leaps off its pedestal and lands on the ground with an earth-shaking thud. And then it _starts to come toward us_.

I scream again, turning and trying to run. But the mutt leaps into the air and flaps its wings in a concussive blast, knocking me to the ground, dazed and stunned.

Quentin seems to snap out of his stupor, swinging his sword at the mutt's neck. It wheels around, snapping its jaws, and he leaps back.

Hysteria is clawing at my throat, because if a Career can't beat this thing, what chance do I have?

And then the mutt turns back toward me. My heart nearly stops with sheer terror.

"No!"

I blink, because I didn't say that. Neither did Andromida or Quentin.

That was Cedar.

My heart stops again as I realize that Cedar is on his feet, waving his arms and trying to distract the mutt.

Unfortunately for him, it works.

The creature moves with blinding speed, running at Cedar and sinking its claws into his chest.

Everything slows down.

Cedar's eyes go wide.

He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out except blood.

And then he collapses, still impaled on the mutt's talons.

The cannon booms.

I barely hear my own scream, but the mutt clearly does.

Its head whips around, those horrible blank eyes falling on me. A terrifying rage consumes me down to my bones, and then I'm on my feet.

I don't care that I don't have a weapon. I don't care that I'm probably going to die.

This thing killed Cedar.

That's all that matters right now.

I run at the mutt, and, somehow, I'm not at all surprised when it rises into the air, flapping its wings in that concussive blast. I fly back against the wall, just barely registering a blinding pain in my neck.

And then everything goes black.

* * *

 **Quentin Ferro, age 18**

 **District 1 Male**

* * *

The girl from District 7 collapses, her neck bent at an unnatural angle.

That's about when I realize I'm _completely_ outmatched by this thing. None of my training could have prepared me for this.

I turn to Andromida. "We have to run."

She looks at me, eyes glassy with terror, and nods.

I tighten my grip on my sword, grab her hand, and sprint off as fast as my legs can carry me. The mutt roars behind us, but I have a feeling it'll have a hard time getting through all the narrow passageways and tiny arches that this castle seems to be made entirely of.

We don't stop running until we're both gasping for breath and soaked in sweat. Andromida leans against the wall, and then slides down into a sitting position. If I make it out of this alive, I'm going to have a few choice words for whoever designed that monstrosity.

"Are you OK?" I ask.

"Fine," Andromida gasps. "You?"

"I'm OK."

I sit down on one of the many pieces of crumbling rock and attempt to take a deep breath. It doesn't work super well, so I try to take another. That one goes better.

Pretty soon I'll be breathing normally again.

Andromida sighs softly. "Quentin?"

"Yeah?"

"Would you have actually killed those two if that mutt hadn't showed up?"

And suddenly, I can't breathe again.

I know I should say yes.

But I'm not sure if that would be the truth or not.

"I don't know," I finally say.

Andromida doesn't respond.

I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not.

* * *

 **A/N Eulogies:**

 **Cedar: Ohhhh, I'm going to miss him soooooooooooooooooooooooo much! Cedar was great, and I really liked writing him, but he was never going to win. RIP.**

 **Camille: I'm so sorry, EllaRoseEverdeen. Camille was one of my favorite tributes. I loved her carefree attitude and just her personality in general, but those very things were the reasons why she wasn't going to make it very far. I'm going to miss her. RIP.**

 **I hope you liked this chapter, and please review!**


	31. Day 6: Death Comes Swiftly

**A/N Hi everyone! Here's another chapter!**

* * *

 **Perona Destins, age 12**

 **District 3 Female**

* * *

Two cannons sounded yesterday. There are only ten tributes left.

I have almost made it to the final eight.

There is a part of me that still cannot believe it, but the rest of me is already planning ways to survive to the final two. And from there, to win the Hunger Games.

I can do it, as long as I play my cards right.

The first step is to finally make my move against the girl from District 12 and the boy from District 6. I would have killed them before, but every time I tried to wait for dusk, I fell asleep. The need to sleep can be very annoying.

But now, now is my chance. And if I can kill them both, I will have made it to the final eight.

Silently, I creep closer and closer to them. They are still asleep, as it is very early in the morning. I fight back a smirk.

Once I'm finally close enough, I get to my feet and, extremely carefully, begin to walk toward them.

I'll take out the girl first. She's older, and much larger than I am, and therefore, she is the bigger threat. I raise my knife and drive it clear up to the hilt in the girl from District 12's chest.

Her eyes fly open as I stab her, and she opens her mouth to scream. But all that comes out is blood.

I yank the knife out and she collapses into a limp, bleeding pile on the ground.

The cannon booms, yanking the boy from District 6 from sleep.

He screams in horror, and I sigh, raising my knife again. He catches sight of me and screams again, pointing to the knife in my hand. I should feel guilty, but I do not.

The boy picks up a rock from the ground, and I fight the urge to laugh. Does he truly expect to beat me with a stone?

And then he throws said stone.

It hits me in the head.

The last thing I think before everything goes black is: _Huh. So he can beat me with a rock._

* * *

 **Egan Alice, age 13**

 **District 6 Male**

* * *

I can't breathe. I think I'm in shock.

Clementine is dead. And I just knocked the person who killed her. Said person is also younger than me.

I don't know how to deal with any of this. I should probably kill the District 3 girl, but I can't quite find it in me.

So I'm just standing here. Trying to make sense of what just happened without thinking about it too much.

This is pain like nothing I've ever felt before, and suddenly I'm desperate to get away. The next thing I know, I'm running as if my life depends on it, tearing through thorny bushes and past crumbling arches.

By the time I finally stop, I'm crying, huge sobs tearing at my chest.

It's weird, I didn't even know Clementine that well, but her death has broken something inside of that I don't know how to reach, much less fix.

I should have killed that girl with her own knife.

The vehemence of my thoughts almost surprises me. I didn't know I could think such violent things. I mean, sure, I got into fights at home, but I've never wanted to actually kill someone.

It's kind of scary that I want to now.

I guess the Hunger Games really does do weird things to people.

I'm not sure if I want to know who I'll be if I get out, which is just as well because I'm probably going to die soon anyway. I wipe my face, boiling tears smearing the dirt on my cheeks. Then I sink to the ground, as if my legs can no longer support me.

Maybe they can't.

Suddenly I'm very tired, and I want to go home.

This isn't the first time I've had this thought, and I doubt if it'll be the last.

I just have to survive long enough so that I _can_ go home.

* * *

 **Salinity Hoffman, age 18**

 **District 4 Female**

* * *

I am so very done with everything it's not even funny.

Carlisle and Crimson have been freaking _moping_ for a while now, all because Quentin and Andromida left. I mean, what did they expect? That we were all going to just stay together until the end?

Granted, I'm not at all thrilled about why they left (I mean, come on, so I smiled a little bit while killing someone? Seriously, it's not that bad.), but I knew it would happen eventually. The Career pack always breaks up. Crimson and Carlisle should just be grateful that _this_ break-up wasn't as bloody as most.

I'm also bored. We went hunting all of _once_ , and I was the only one who killed anyone.

On the upside, a cannon sounded a few minutes ago, so that's good. More competition gone, and all that.

My allies barely seemed to notice, sitting around nibbling on dried fruit and bread rolls.

I ate a granola bar this morning, not that either of them care.

Honestly, sometimes it doesn't even feel like I'm their leader at all.

I sigh deeply, swinging my legs off the Cornucopia like a little kid sitting a chair that's too big for them. I kind of can't wait for these Games to be over, so I can go home and be a Victor already.

A dreamy smile spreads across my face at the thought. Salinity Hoffman, Victor of the 71st Annual Hunger Games. Now that's a title I could rather fall in love with.

I shake my head to clear it. Getting overconfident won't help me and it might get me killed.

Leaning down, I pluck my spear off the ground and pull my whetstone out of my pocket. As I start to sharpen my spear, I can feel my tension draining away. Something about making sharp metal sharper seems to soothe me.

"Crimson! Give that back!"

I fight the urge to groan. What could those two morons possibly be fighting about?

"I didn't see your name on it!"

It's probably a piece of dried fruit or something equally stupid. Not something I have to care about.

"How about we split it?"

Oh, boy, now they really do sound like preschoolers.

"Fine."

Preschoolers. My allies are preschoolers.

"I'm pretty sure you got the bigger half."

"Dang it, Carlisle!"

Then they both burst out laughing. I'd very much like to hit them both over the head, but I'll keep my mouth shut.

After all, the end is in sight.

Only a few more days at most until I'll get to kill them.

* * *

 **Shiela Winters, age 16**

 **District 5 Female**

* * *

My stomach is growling with a violence I didn't know it possessed.

But I'm sure I'll be fine. After all, the Games can't last much longer, right? I mean, they'll eventually have to drive us together, and then it'll all be over.

I'm honestly not sure if I want to be the winner or not. I haven't killed anyone yet, but I have a feeling I'll have to if I want to get out alive. And I'm not sure if I want to survive that much.

"Hey," Samuel says, nudging my shoulder with his own. "You OK?"

"I'm fine," I say, mustering up a smile. "Just thinking."

"Oh."

We both fall silent. We haven't been talking much lately. I think neither of us really have the energy.

Just then, I hear a sort of long scraping sound, like nails on a chalkboard but less shrill. Samuel and I both sit up very straight, exchanging panicked looks, because no human could make that sound. Which can only mean one thing.

"Mutt," Samuel whispers.

I take a shuddering breath, trying not think about our odds for survival. Neither of us have any weapons, and the mutts are always equipped with huge teeth and claws and, in the case of last year's mutts, spines.

I've barely finished having this thought when a huge, dull crimson creature simply materializes on the wall less than ten feet from us and lunges toward Samuel. He rolls out of the way, but the mutt's teeth catch on the back of his shirt, ripping it.

His eyes are wild with terror, and I'm pretty sure I look the same way.

The mutt's strange, bulging, reddish eyes land on me, and it lunges again. For such a huge creature, it can move pretty darn fast.

I try to roll between its front legs, and I mostly succeed. One of the mutt's claws catches on my thigh, leaving me with a long scratch, but at least I'm alive.

But now the mutt is clearly furious. It roars, showing me and Samuel a mouth full of cruel, crooked teeth, and then it sprays some kind of green goo.

It's purely instinct when I jump in front of Samuel. And I don't regret it, even when the blinding, all-consuming pain hits.

Samuel shrieks in horror, a sound I never thought he'd make, and drops to his knees beside me. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot the mutt melt back into invisibility.

"Shiela, oh my gosh, _Shiela_ ," Samuel rambles, eyes very wide.

"Don't -" I break out in coughing, which only sends more pain shooting up and down my entire body. "- touch me."

"I-I think it's some kind of acid," he says.

"Yeah."

My vision starts to go black, and I blink rapidly, trying to stay awake. Looks like I won't have to deal with that whole kill-or-not-kill thing now. My eyes start to slip shut.

"No, no, no, _no_. Shiela, you have to stay awake. _Shiela_ , can you hear me?"

 _I can_ , I think. But I don't have the energy to respond.

The last thing I hear is Samuel's panicked voice, and then everything goes dark and silent.

* * *

 **A/N Eulogies:**

 **Clementine: I'm definitely going to miss her. She was so sweet and just wanted to help people...which was why she was never going to win. I'm sorry, BabyRue11. RIP.**

 **Shiela: I'm really sorry, IdekFanfiction. I think Shiela was strong enough to win, but she was never my Victor. I'm going to miss her a lot, though. RIP.**

 **In other news, we are now in the final 8! I'm super excited for next chapter. Lots of interesting stuff's gonna happen.**

 **Anyway, I hope you liked it, and please review!**


	32. Day 7Final 8 Interviews:Blood & Beauty

**A/N Hi everyone! I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS SYOT IS ALMOST OVER! AAAAAHHHHHH!**

 **Ahem, yeah, anyway, quick reminder to submit to Frost Bite, as there are still some open spots.**

* * *

 **Veraline Lede, age 20**

 **Older Sister of Andromida Nyx Lede**

* * *

Our house is literally _filled_ with Capitol people, and it's starting to tick me off.

They're setting up microphones and cameras and all kinds of other stuff, and we haven't even gotten to the actual interviews. Serenity is clearly bored, her leg bouncing up and down so fast it's almost a blur, Carper is flirting with one of the tech ladies, and Belissa is...nowhere to be found, actually.

Uh oh.

I shove past the pretty Capitol tech lady, earning myself a dirty look from Carper. I grab his arm and drag him off.

"Whoa! Hey!" he yelps. "I was kind of in the middle of something over there!"

"Shut up, Amira," I snap.

"Wow, I thought we were on a first name basis!" Carper says.

"Oh, will you please _shut up_?"

"Well, if you're asking so nicely..."

"Can you be serious for thirty seconds? Your sister is missing, and we need to _find her_ before _the cameras_ go on. Got it?"

He blinks several times. "Belissa is missing?"

"And finally, the light dawns!"

"OK, OK, no need to get nasty. She's probably fixing her makeup somewhere."

I roll my eyes. "Fine. I'll check the bathrooms, you go to the living room and see if she comes back. But if you get distracted with that Capitol girl again, so help me -"

"All right, all right!"

Carper heads back into the chaos that is the living room, and I run upstairs to see if I can find Belissa. Sure enough, she's in the bathroom dabbing at her lipstick and mascara. I roll my eyes, walk in the bathroom, and grab her arm.

"Come on, beauty queen, it's time for your television debut."

Belissa's face lights up. "Really?"

"Yeah, I think we'll be on pretty soon."

I really hope.

Once I've gotten Belissa downstairs, the interviewer lady (who introduces herself as Coralie) tells us to sit down on the couch, look at the camera, and smile. She then fluffs up her mane of white hair so that she looks like an actual poodle and smiles widely.

The camera turns on.

"Hello, ladies and gentlemen," Coralie says, "and welcome to the final eight interviews."

Here we go.

* * *

 **Jade Boulder, age 18**

 **Best Friend of Crimson Legacy**

* * *

I _hate_ final eight interviews. Hate them, hate them, hate them.

Last year, my sister was in the Hunger Games. Now it's my best friend.

My life sucks.

I brush a lock of brilliant silver hair out of my face and rearrange my silky blue dress. Most of the questions have be directed at Crimson's family so far, and I'm getting bored. Why'd the interview dude even make me come over here if he wasn't going to ask me anything?

"And now, for another perspective, meet Jade Boulder, Crimson's best friend!"

I blink at the camera, stone-faced, and raise an eyebrow. "Hi."

"So, Jade," the interviewer says, "you've done this before, haven't you?"

"Yup," I say.

"Aren't you excited that Crimson has made it to the final eight?"

"I'll get excited if she wins."

The interviewer's smile wavers at my use of the word if. He's probably used to people in the Career Districts being confident that their tributes will win. Well, sorry, buddy, but I have, in fact, done this before, and I know that it's more than likely that Crimson won't be making it home.

"What do you think of Crimson's chances?" the interviewer asks, interrupting my internal monologue.

Oooh. Wrong question, dude. But I'll answer it anyway.

"I think she can win," I say, and the interviewer looks rather relieved, but I'm not done. "But I also know that there are a lot of other strong tributes in that arena, and there are a lot of factors that you just can't train for. So I think, and I _hope_ , Crimson can win, but I'm going to say she will, because that's not true. After all, Topaz didn't."

Then I get to my feet and saunter off-camera, my hair swinging behind me. My father's going to be furious, but what else is new?

I hope Crimson can win. I really do.

But I refuse to really believe she can. I did that last year.

And look where it got me.

* * *

 **Jalina Destins, age 16**

 **Older Sister of Perona Destins**

* * *

I think I'm falling apart. I don't understand how my parents can talk about Perona so calmly when she's _in the Hunger Games_.

I haven't said a word since this interview started and I think it's better that way. If I open my mouth I'm afraid that all the bitterness I've been keeping inside since my little sister got Reaped will come pouring out.

After all, it's the Capitol's fault that Perona's killed someone. More than one someone, actually. She wasn't like that before. Sure, she was a little...different, but she wasn't a killer.

I'll _never_ be able to stop seeing the images of the boy from District 9 and the girl from District 12, one's _throat_ sliced and the other stabbed in the _heart_ , two people dead by my sister's hand. It's all the Capitol's fault.

Yesterday was the worst, because she killed someone and then she got knocked by the District 6 boy. I thought he was going to kill her, but he didn't. At least some people still have some decency.

I'm not actually sure who I'm angrier with, Perona or the Capitol. She didn't have to kill! She should have just hidden or something, should have just let the Careers and those horrible invisible mutts and the terrifying statue mutts take care of the competition. But _no_ , she had _do it herself_.

"Jalina? Anything to say about your sister?"

I look up and meet the interviewer's strange, ebony-black eyes. "Yeah, I do."

"Well, go ahead then."

"I hope she doesn't come back." My parents both turn and look at me in horror, but I can't stop now that I've started. "I hope she doesn't come back because she won't be the person who left. She won't be my sister, because she's killed people, and I _hate_ that. I wish she'd never been Reaped, then none of this would have happened. I wish she'd just found somewhere to hide once she escaped the bloodbath, like a _normal_ twelve-year-old." A sob hiccups in my throat, but I have to finish this. "I don't want District 3 to have another Victor if that Victor is her."

The interviewer (I still can't tell if their a boy or a girl.), looks bizarrely delighted by my tirade. Actually, maybe it isn't so bizarre. The audience in the Capitol will probably _love_ this.

I hate them.

I hate them all.

* * *

 **Shelby Hoffman, age 44**

 **Mother of Salinity Hoffman**

* * *

For once in my life, I'm glad for Capsize's tendency to ramble on and on. At least it's taking focus off the fact that Tide isn't here and he probably won't be. Sometimes I wonder what's going to happen to that boy.

"Ahem, yes, well, thank you for that..er...delightful anecdote, Capsize. What about you, Anchor? Anything to say about your friend?" Aspa, the interviewer, says, snapping me out of my thoughts.

Anchor sighs. "Salinity's great, and she can do pretty much anything she sets her mind to. Including winning the Hunger Games."

"That's very sweet, Anchor," Aspa says.

I really hope no one asks about Tide.

Aspa's already asked me and Wrasse some questions, and now I'm just hoping she ends the interview without asking about Tide.

"I thought you had a son as well, Mrs Hoffman. Where is he?"

Crap.

"Probably stoned in an alleyway somewhere," Capsize says, and then her eyes widen as she realizes what exactly just came out of her mouth.

Anchor sighs and puts his head in his hands.

The interviewer gapes for several seconds and then clears her throat. "Ah. Well. Then I suppose we won't be interviewing him."

"No," Wrasse says, much to my relief.

Aspa mumbles something unintelligible, and then rapidly turns the conversation back to Capsize, who is more than happy to attempt to cover her blunder with talk about Salinity.

I close my eyes for a brief second, hoping to stave off a headache.

This is much harder than I thought it would be.

* * *

 **Calypso De Amire, age 18**

 **Twin Sister of Carlisle De Amire**

* * *

It's a good thing I've been on television so much, otherwise I'd probably have punched this interviewer right in his stupid face. He's so annoying. A few minutes ago, he asked me if Carlisle has a girlfriend.

I mean, how am I supposed to know if Carlisle has a girlfriend? We might be twins, but we don't share _everything_ , you stupid Capitol idiot.

Thankfully, he's moved on to asking Jonalin stuff. Maybe he saw the murderous gleam in my eyes and decided to leave me alone. Or, more likely, he got bored of my one-word answers and decided to talk to someone who will actually talk back.

If that's the case, boy has he ever struck gold with Jonalin. The kid will talk and talk and talk until his tongue falls out.

I lean my head back against the back of the couch, itching to rub off the makeup slathered all over my face, but Mom will kill me and so will the person who put the makeup on, so I'd better leave it alone.

"Calypso, what do you think your brother's chances of winning are?"

Huh. What do you know. This guy is capable of asking a relevant question.

"I think his chances are pretty good, to be honest. Carlisle is trained, he's tough, and he's willing to do whatever it takes to get home," I say, plastering my best fake smile on my face.

"Well, I think I can speak for the entire Capitol when I say that he will certainly make a popular Victor!"

"I'm sure he will," Dad says, smiling in a fatherly fashion. "And we'll all be very proud of him when he gets back."

Oh, gag me.

"I can't wait till my son is home again!" Mom trills.

Seriously?

My parents both look expectantly at me, and I realize that I'm supposed to say something sappy and ridiculous now.

Joy.

"I really miss him, and I'll be very glad when he's home safe," I say, the words tasting like ashes in my mouth, not because I don't mean them, but because I hate all of this.

The acting, the fake smiles and laughs, the constant 'we're on television so we have to be on our best behavior all the time' feeling...I wonder if it'll stop when Carlisle comes home.

I really hope it does.

I don't know how much more I can take.

* * *

 **Apollo Alice, age 16**

 **Older Brother of Egan Alice**

* * *

"Why do I have to wear makeup? You know I'm a boy, right?"

The Capitol stylist laughs, patting my cheek. "Of course, silly. But everyone has to wear makeup when they're on TV!"

"But I don't even want to be on TV!"

She just laughs again, spraying some kind of weird mist on my hair.

In another part of the living room, my mother is also getting makeup put on her, and in still another, my father is yelling at a Capitol technician to not disrupt the wiring in our house.

I glance over at the television and almost have an heart attack. I'm on my feet before I even know what's happening, knocking the indignant Capitol stylist out of my way.

Because the Hunger Games on the TV. And something big is happening.

All those mutts, the ones that are statues one minute and monsters the next, are waking up, cracking and snapping their stone necks and wings and jaws. And then they're taking flight, into the sky.

I have a terrible feeling I know what that means.

The finale has begun.

It'll all be over soon.

* * *

 **Crimson Legacy, age 17**

 **District 2 Female**

* * *

When the mutts come, I can't say I'm not excited. I've been bored out of my skull, just waiting for something, anything, to happen.

And now it has. It's bigger than I ever thought it would be, too.

The Games will end today, one way or another.

I can hardly wait. I'm heartily sick of this arena.

Picking up my sword, I start running. If I don't, I have no doubt that the mutts will kill me.

But I won't die today.

I refuse.

Carlisle is running next to me, smiling. I grin at him, and then we keep running. Salinity is in front of us, sprinting as fast as she can.

I think we are all ready for this be over.

The mutts herd us into a courtyard in what seems to be the middle of the arena, along with the rest of the remaining tributes. I find myself face-to-face with the boy from District 12, the girl from District 3 (who looks rather dizzy), the boy from District 6, Quentin, and Andromida.

"Hey, you two," I say.

Andromida stares at me and says, "Crimson?"

"Hi," I say.

The mutts drop to the ground, turning back to stone, surrounding us in a circle. I have a feeling that if any of us try to leave, we'll be attacked by those creatures.

Salinity pulls out her spear. "Let's do this."

* * *

 **A/N I hope you liked it, and please review!**


	33. Day 7, Part 2: One Last Time

**A/N Hi everyone! Here's the last chapter of the Games!**

* * *

 **Samuel Blackthorn, age 16**

 **District 12 Male**

* * *

I can't believe I made it to the final eight and Shiela didn't. I always assumed I'd die before her. And yet here I am, surrounded by Careers. Literally, all the Careers are here.

And the mutts won't let us leave.

I'm going to die. Of course, I always was going to, but now it feels real.

The girl from District 4 hefts her spear, her eyes falling on me like I'm something she wants to hunt. I gulp, hard, wishing there was a convenient rock around that I could use to hit her with.

She charges at me, and I attempt to leap to the side, but I'm too late. The spear catches me in the side, and I shriek in agony. Then I take a deep breath. I've handled pain before.

I shove her away, and she loses her balance and falls down. I fall to my knees, then grit my teeth and yank the spear out of my side. I nearly black out from the pain, but I manage to keep awake.

The District 4 girl growls as she gets back on her feet, but now I have the spear.

"You little -"

I laugh rather insanely, possibly from all the loss of blood. I jab at the girl from District 4 with the spear, hoping I can at least kill her before I die.

She grabs at the shaft, and the next minute, we're playing tug of war with the spear. Unfortunately for her, the end of the spear she's holding is slick with my blood, so her hands slip.

The next thing I know the point of the spear impales her right through the chest.

She gasps, her eyes going wide and filling with shock. Her hands grasp at the shaft of the spear, trying in vain to pull it out. Then she goes limp, and a second later, the cannon booms.

I look up at the rest of the courtyard, where everyone else is also engaged in battle. The boy from District 1 is engaged in a furious sword fight with the boy from District 2, the boy from District 6 is throwing rocks at the girl from District 3, and the girl from District 2 and the girl from District 1 are also sword fighting.

I wrap one arm around myself, hoping I won't just bleed out on the floor.

The girl from District 3 nearly takes a rock to the head and happens to catch sight of me.

Crap.

I attempt to hobble away, but it's not easy with about half my blood gone.

The District 3 girl starts to walk toward me, knife drawn, and I try to back up, but I trip on a loose stone and fall on my bad side. I cry out in pain and try to get up, but I don't quite manage it.

The last thing I feel is cold steel sliding across my throat before everything goes black.

* * *

 **Crimson Legacy, age 17**

 **District 2 Female**

* * *

I never thought I'd be fighting Andromida, but I probably should have. The Careers always end up fighting each other in the end. I should have seen this coming.

But I didn't. So here I am.

Andromida's katana whips out, an arc of sparkling steel. I block it with my sword, fear welling up in my stomach. Andromida's a lot better than I thought she was, and I might actually be a little outmatched.

Not that I'm going to let her win.

She jumps back as I swipe at her thigh, and she counters with a jab at my ribs. I manage to slice my sword across her arm, and she tries stab me in the shoulder. She really is good.

Just then, a cannon booms, and I wheel around to see Carlisle fall down, Quentin's sword in his chest. I scream at the top of my lungs, feeling like part of my soul has been ripped away. To my astonishment, Andromida doesn't do anything.

For some reason, that only makes me angry. Her District partner just...he just...

I scream with fury and swing my sword at Andromida's head. She shrieks and ducks, eyes wide with horror.

The next few minutes are a blur of steel and flying hair and gasping for breath, as Andromida and I fight with more desperation than before. And before we were fighting for our lives.

Now I'm fighting for revenge.

It gets so that I forget about everything else. I forget that I'm in the Hunger Games. I forget that there even other people around. All I can think about is the look on Carlisle's face when Quentin stabbed him, and the fact that Andromida is Quentin's District partner.

I have never been so furious in all my life. I've never wanted to kill anyone so much as I want to kill Quentin and Andromida.

And then there's a blinding pain in the back of my ribcage. I glance down to see a long, sharp piece of metal sticking out of my chest. Burning pain spreads out from the wound, and I open my mouth with absolute horror.

But nothing comes out.

I faintly hear Andromida's scream as the sword is pulled out of my back. As I fall to the ground, I spot the girl from District 3 pulling her knife out of the boy from District 6's throat.

I'd wince in sympathy if I could. My vision starts to turn black are around the edges, and the last thing I hear is the District 6 boy's cannon.

* * *

 **Andromida Nyx Lede, age 18**

 **District 1 Female**

* * *

I can't stop crying. Crimson's cannon booms, and suddenly I can't breathe.

"I'm sorry," Quentin says. "I'm sorry."

"I don't - I can't - how - how could you?!"

"She was going to kill you!"

I glance down at Crimson's body and my eyes well up with tears again.

"Oi! Are we gonna finish this?"

Quentin and I turn around to see the girl from District 3, glaring at us. That's about when I realize that we're the only three left. Quentin takes a furious step toward her, and she backs up.

Right into one of the mutt statues.

The creature's eyes fly open, and it moves faster than I could have believed possible, swallowing the District 3 girl whole. I nearly throw up as it simply goes back to standing still, as if nothing happened.

Quentin stares in astonishment. And then he turns and looks at me. "I really am sorry."

"I know," I whisper.

"I -" he starts to say. Then his face fills with horror. "We're the final two."

I blink. "What?"

"We're the final two."

My entire body freezes. "Oh, no."

"This wasn't supposed to happen," he says.

"No, it wasn't," I say softly.

Quentin gulps. "What do we do?"

"You...you should win," I whisper.

His eyes widen. "No, no, not a chance."

"Please." I close my eyes. "Just make it fast, all right?"

"No. No, no, no, no."

"When you get home, buy that cat, OK? And buy a cake and eat it with your sister for me."

He goes silent.

"Quentin?"

My eyes open to see Quentin, his own sword in this throat.

A scream tears itself out of my throat. "Quentin! Oh, no, no, no, no, NO!"

He falls, eyes fluttering shut. I scream again, dropping to my knees beside him.

"Quentin, _no_!"

A cannon booms.

I clutch at the wound in my arm, blood staining my hand.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the Victor of the 71st Annual Hunger Games...Andromida Nyx Lede!" yells Claudius Templesmith's voice.

I bow my head and almost scream again.

Victory should not hurt this much.

* * *

 **A/N Eulogies:**

 **Salinity: I'm going to miss Salinity. She was a really interesting tribute, and even though she got sort of deranged at the end, I still liked her. RIP.**

 **Samuel: Oooooohhhhh, Samuel. I'm really going to miss him. He started out cold, but then he got much nicer. I'm sorry, platypus27. RIP.**

 **Carlisle: I'm super sorry, EllaRoseEverdeen. I liked Carlisle a lot, and he was one of the most unique tributes I've ever gotten, but he just wasn't my Victor. RIP.**

 **Crimson: I'm really, really going to miss her. She was a super fun tribute to write, and I really liked her. So sorry, PurpleFrenchFryAmy. RIP.**

 **Egan: Oh, Egan. He was one of my absolute favorite tributes, but he was only thirteen, so he couldn't win. RIP.**

 **Perona: I'm really sorry, ICanShowYouPanem. Perona was very interesting and fun to write, but she was also cold and unemotional and...well, she just wasn't my Victor. RIP.**

 **Quentin: I think I'll miss him most of all. He was somehow both a Career and a good person, and he was a joy to write. I really liked him. I'm so sorry, C. Montgomery Burns. RIP.**

 **The Victor:**

 **Andromida: She was always one of my favorites, but I had so many amazing tributes that I kept flipping back and forth on who should be the Victor. Camille held the spot for a while. So did Quentin. But I kept coming back to Andromida. She's amazing and awesome and genuinely good person, and I can't wait to keep writing her. Thank you, EllaRoseEverdeen, for submitting her.**

 **I hope you liked this chapter, and please review!**


	34. Aftermath: I Have This Hope

**A/N Hi everyone! I can't believe there's only one more chapter left after this! This has been so much fun, and I hope to see you all again in Frost Bite!**

* * *

 **Andromida Nyx Lede, age 18**

 **Victor of the 71st Annual Hunger Games**

* * *

When I wake up, I find myself hoping that I'm still in the arena. That Quentin isn't dead. That I still have time to say good-bye.

Then I open my eyes to see a sterile, white room that is clearly in the Capitol. Sitting next to my bed is Esmeralda, a half-shocked-half-suspicious look on her face.

I blink at her several times before I can convince myself that she's real. "What are you doing here?"

"Did you know?" she replies.

My brow furrows. "Know what?"

Esmeralda rubs her temples. "So you really don't know."

"Know _what_?"

"I can't believe I'm the one who has to tell you this."

"Tell me _what_?"

Her gaze drops to the floor, and she takes a deep breath. "You're pregnant."

Suddenly, I feel like I might faint. "W-What?"

"You heard me. When the doctors were examining you after they knocked you out, they found out. Did you know?"

" _No_."

"Thought so."

"Do you know who?"

I'm about to say no, but then I remember. It was the night after I got picked to volunteer. I was miserable, so Serenity and I got really drunk and the next thing I knew, I was making out with Academy bad boy. The one who spray painted rebellious murals all over the alleyway walls and showed up hungover to training.

I woke up in his room and we both swore to never speak of it again. I never even got his name.

"Sort of," I mumble.

"Well, he's not important anyway."

I blink several times, shoving down a tiny bit of hysteria. "Huh?"

Esmeralda seems to grow several years older. "You do realize you're going to have to talk about this in your interview."

" _What_?"

"I know, I know. But this info is going to get released, whether you talk about it or not. Jerrick and I managed to get them to delay the release until after your interview, but if you don't want this whole thing getting smeared with rumors and Capitol gossip, then you _have_ to talk about it. Tonight."

I gulp, panic clawing its way up my throat. "But I -"

"You _have_ to." Esmeralda's voice softens, just a touch. "This is your only chance to do this on _your_ terms, not the Capitol's. And, once you do, you'll be set for life."

"What do you mean?"

"You'll be a favorite. The Capitol _loves_ drama, and it doesn't get more dramatic than this." She leans closer to me. "I get that you're probably still processing this, and it's probably scary, but you need talk about it. Trust me."

With great difficulty, I swallow down my panic and terror and confusion. "OK."

Esmeralda smirks. "Great. I'll be back soon so you can get all styled up." She gets up and walks over to the door, where she pauses. "Oh, one other thing."

"What _now_?" I grumble.

She smirks. "You're having twins."

* * *

"And now, I give you the lovely Victor of the 71st Annual Hunger Games: Andromida Nyx Lede!"

I take a deep breath, smoothing down my ankle-length, soft sky blue, tank-top-style-sleeved dress. Unlike my interview dress, it's not overly revealing. I like it. Weird as it sounds, it kind of gives me confidence.

I fix a smile on my face as the plate I'm standing on is lifted up onstage. The crowd goes absolutely wild at the sight of me, and my smile becomes just the slightest bit more genuine. I glide gracefully across the stage and sit down next to Caesar.

"Hello, Andromida!" he chirps. "My, but you look lovely!"

"Thank you, Caesar," I say with a soft smile.

"And how are you doing?"

I take a deep breath. "Oh, I'm all right. I've been relaxing a lot, since stress wouldn't be good for me." I allow myself a small, nervous smile. "Or for the babies."

Caesar starts nodding, and then he freezes, seeming to have just realized what I said. I'm not sure if it's an act or not, but if it is, he's good.

"You're pregnant?" he asks.

I nod. "And I'm having twins."

The crowd positively _explodes_. I'm almost too shocked to smile and wave like Esmeralda told me to.

It takes a full five minutes for the audience to stop clapping.

This should feel like victory.

But it doesn't.

Not really.

* * *

"I don't want to go out there," I say, biting my already very short nails.

"Come on, you'll be fine," Jerrick says.

"The train stopped like five minutes ago," Esmeralda says. "We're gonna get in trouble if we don't get off."

I groan, knowing I'm outmatched, but I still really don't want to go out there. They'll all be expecting me to feel like a Victor. But I don't. Quentin deserved this way more than I do. I doubt if I'll ever stop feeling that way.

As if sensing my thoughts, Esmeralda wraps one arm around me. "Jer's right. You'll be fine."

I take a deep breath and nod.

And then I'm being positively shoved down the stairs and into the middle of the loudest crowd I've ever had the misfortune to be near. The worst part are the cameras, going off in my face every thirty seconds like miniature fireworks. Just as I'm pretty sure I'm about to have a panic attack, a women and a man come out of the crowd and start pushing the reporters and cameras back.

"Sorry about this, kid!" the younger woman says. "But you'll get used to it. Eventually."

She looks at me with a sort-of smile and that's when I recognize her. Cashmere Diamond. Which means that man must be her twin brother, Gloss.

"Oh," I say, not able to muster any more words.

Cashmere looks around herself, and then barks, "Dang it!"

"What?"

"I had your family, but it appears I've lost them. Whoops."

My heart performs some kind of painful aerial loop in my chest. My family's here.

Oh, no, what am I going to tell them?

I've barely had that thought when a tall, blond person runs out of the crowd and wraps her arms around my neck.

"Andri!"

"Vera..." I croak. "Need air!"

"Sorry!" she yelps, letting go and then immediately hugging me again.

At least I'm not choking anymore.

Then something crashes into my back and yells, "Hi, mama!"

"Serenity..." I groan.

"What? You're going to be a mother."

Carper and Belissa join the group hug next, followed by my extremely frazzled mom and dad, until I'm stuck in the middle of a sort of weird huddle.

I love it.

* * *

"This is the biggest house I've ever seen!" Serenity squeals. "Can I move in with you?"

"No," I say.

She pouts. "I hate you."

"I know."

She sticks her tongue out at me, but she's laughing.

Carper's head appears at the top of the stairs. "Serenity, you have to come up here! They have the _softest_ carpets."

"Nice to know your friends have such good priorities," says a voice behind me as Serenity clatters up the stairs.

I whip around to see Esmeralda standing behind me, a wide grin on her face. "Gah! Don't _do_ that!"

"Sorry."

"What are you even doing here?"

"I wanted to see what you'd done with the place." She looks around the room. "It's much homier than mine, especially since you've only been here a week."

"Well, you're welcome to come over whenever you want."

"You're really going to regret that."

"Most likely," I say.

But I don't really care.

I'd rather have a crowded house than an empty one.

* * *

I've been home about a month before I finally think to try and find...that guy. So naturally, I go to Serenity, who knows everything about everything that goes on in this District.

When I describe him to her, her expression morphs into one of such sympathy that I know something bad is coming.

"I'm really sorry, Andromida, but he's dead."

Once again, I feel like I'm going to faint. "What?"

"He got caught making one of his murals by some Peacekeepers. They executed him."

I shouldn't feel this crushed. I barely even knew him, but _still_.

Serenity wraps one arm around me with a sigh. "I really am sorry."

"'S fine," I mumble. "Do you remember his name?"

Her brow furrows. "It was a-something. Umm..." She pauses for a minute. "Alistair. That was it."

"Oh," I say. "Thanks."

"See you tomorrow?" Serenity asks as I get up to leave.

"Of course."

As I walk back home, a single tear traces its way down my cheek.

Alistair.

At least now I'll remember him.

* * *

The nightmares start in the second week after I get home.

Well, nightmares might be the wrong word. They're more like memories.

This'll be the fourth night I've woken up crying, and I'm getting tired of just sitting in bed and trying get back to sleep. I kick off my blankets and slip silently downstairs, intending to make myself a cup of hot chocolate.

Except Veraline's already down there, watching TV. I freeze, hoping she might not see me.

"Lovely night, isn't it?"

Dang it.

"Not really," I say, going into the kitchen and pulling out a pot and some hot chocolate mix.

"Fair enough."

I fill the pot with milk, add the hot chocolate mix, and put it on the stove. "What're you watching?"

"Some reality show."

"Oh."

The hot chocolate mixture starts to bubble, so I pull it off the heat and pour it into a ceramic mug. Then I drop two marshmallows in it and head over to the stairs.

"You want to stay?"

I stop and turn around, staring at my sister. Then I sigh deeply. "Fine."

Vera's smile practically lights up the dim room. I roll my eyes and sit down on the couch beside, still holding my cup of hot chocolate.

She puts one arm around me, and I lean my head on her shoulder.

Somehow, she doesn't need words to tell me that she knows why I'm up. And I don't need words to tell her that I'm glad she does.

This feels like a step forward.

I think I like it.

* * *

"I'm going to buy a cat."

My entire family turns and looks at me like I've suddenly gone crazy. Veraline is the first to say something.

"Beg pardon?"

"You heard me."

Mom clears her throat. "Now, Veraline, I'm sure it won't be so bad. After all, cats are pretty cute." She looks at me. "What kind of cat are you thinking of getting, dear?"

A lump forms in my throat, but I swallow it down. "A Snowshoe cat."

"Oh, those are adorable," Mom says. "Well, you have fun, dear."

I manage a smile as I walk out the door. There's a little pet store near the Victors' Village, and that's where I'm headed.

When I get there, I almost lose my nerve. I wonder if it would have been this hard for Quentin to buy a cake. I doubt it.

"Hello, ma'am," the saleslady at the counter says as I walk in. "What can I do for you today?"

"I'm here to buy a kitten."

"Oh, we have a few of those." She leads me over to a large cage in the back corner of the shop. "These are our kittens."

The cage is filled with kittens of every size and description, and there are so many of them that I feel a bit overwhelmed. Until I spot a tiny little Snowshoe, curled up a corner, batting at a piece of yarn.

"I want that one," I say, pointing to the kitten.

I probably sound like a five-year-old, but I really don't care.

The saleslady fishes the kitten out of the cage, smiling, and says, "This is Peony. She's three weeks old."

I pay the woman and hurry out of the store, clutching Peony's cage. It's cold out, so I speed-walk back to my house, eager to show off my new pet.

Veraline is watching TV again when I get inside. I drop the cage in her lap.

"What is this?" she asks.

"My new kitten."

"Joy."

"Her name is Peony."

"That's...actually pretty cute."

I beam with delight. "Do you want to meet her?"

"Fine."

I open the cage and Peony immediately rushes out, dropping lightly to the floor like a trained acrobat and making a beeline for the curtains.

"Oh, no!" I yelp.

"Catch her!" Vera shrieks.

I manage to scoop the little kitten up before she reaches the curtains, but I'm breathing rather hard. "You are a bad, bad cat."

Peony mews in response and snuggles into my shirt.

"Aww," Veraline coos.

I grin at her, and then at the kitten.

I think Quentin would be proud of me.

* * *

"Vera! Vera, are Mom and Dad home?"

My sister gives me a confused look. "No, why?"

"I'm _showing_!"

Vera nearly drops the cup of coffee she's holding. "Are you kidding? Well, I guess it has been two months, but still!"

In response, I flatten my shirt against my newly acquired baby bump.

"Holy _cow_ ," Veraline says.

"Right?"

At that moment, Peony jumps off the couch, runs across the room, and starts rubbing against my shins.

I laugh softly. "Awww, are you feeling left out?" I scoop my kitten up. "Is that better?"

Peony purrs.

"You spoil that cat shamefully," Veraline says.

"You love her too."

"I know that."

I giggle suddenly, joy bubbling up inside me. "I'm gonna go call Serenity."

"Call the news while you're at it!" Vera yells after me.

I stick my tongue out at her, and then resume running upstairs, Peony still clutched in my arms.

I can hear my sister's laughter all the way up the stairs.

* * *

"Guess what I got today!"

I sigh, not looking up from my book. "A boyfriend?"

"Nope, guess again," Veraline trills.

"A life?"

"Ha, ha. No."

"I give up. What?"

In response, my sister deposits a wriggling, furry bundle in my lap, effectively knocking my new copy of _The Hobbit_ out of my hands.

"A dog?!" I yelp.

"Not just any dog," Vera says delightedly. "A purebred Airedale terrier puppy."

I gape at her. "You do realize we have a cat, right?"

"Oh, come on, we'll keep them in separate rooms, it'll be fine."

"It will _not_ be fine!"

"Yes, it will. Trust me."

I groan. "I hate you."

"Yeah, well."

Veraline scoops up her new dog and sits down in an armchair, and I pick my book back up.

Less than ten minutes later, Peony runs in. The dog leaps down from Vera's lap.

My sister and I exchange panicked looks, but the the puppy and the kitten just stare at each other for several seconds. Then Peony bops the puppy on the nose with one of her paws.

The puppy blinks, and then pounces on her tail.

A second later, they're wrestling as if they've known each other all their lives.

Vera grins. "Looks like we won't need to keep them in separate rooms after all."

I shake my head and then burst out laughing. Veraline quickly joins me.

Once I finally calm down, I scoop up Peony. "By the way, what's the dog's name?"

Vera grins. "Wilfred. But I'm gonna call him Wilfy."

I can't help it. I burst out laughing again.

Veraline glares at me, but I don't stop.

It feels really nice to laugh again.

* * *

The Victory Tour starts in three hours, and I haven't been able to get up all day. Not because I don't want to, because I physically _can't_.

It's been six months since the Games, and I'm as big as a whale. Veraline says I look like I've swallowed a beach ball.

According to my doctor, women who are having twins get bigger than women who are having just one kid. That would have been nice to know earlier, but whatever.

By my calculations, I'm about six-and-a-half months pregnant, so I'm really trying not to think about how much bigger I'm going to get over the next three months.

"You really do have to get up now," Veraline says, sitting down on the couch beside me.

"You think I haven't been trying?" I ask.

"All right, come on, up you get," my sister says, grabbing both my hands and heaving me up.

I stumble and nearly fall over, but I'm upright. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

It's fortunate that I got up when I did, because just then I hear a car pull up in front of the house, and then my stylist and prep team come pouring in.

"Andromida!" Lorna squeals at the sight of me.

"Oh my gosh," Helena shrieks, "you're huge!"

"Really?" I say. "I hadn't noticed."

Aayali laughs in her deep, rich voice and takes my arm. "Come on. Let's get you prettied up for the cameras, shall we?"

"We shall!" Revan says.

I giggle, letting them lead me up to the huge bathroom on the second floor.

Maybe this won't be so bad.

* * *

The second I get to District 12, I realize that this won't, in fact, as bad as I feared. It'll be worse.

Samuel only has his parents onstage, and Clementine has one sibling. I don't know her name, but she looks so heartbroken that tears come to my eyes.

There's a tiny little girl who slips to the front of the crowd and watches me with huge, green-blue eyes throughout my speech, and when I'm done, she hops up onstage (with a little help from Esmeralda) and tells me that her name is Fawn Dunbryll and she doesn't blame me for winning.

The Peacekeepers apathetically shuffle her offstage, and the mayor tries to apologize, but I wave him off, because she might just be the bravest kid I've ever seen.

District 11 isn't much better. Willow had a huge family, but only her mother actually looks related to her, and Raphael had a pretty big family, too. None of them take their eyes off me throughout my entire speech and it's sort of unnerving.

And after the speech, well, they all ignore me, and I can't say I blame them.

In District 10 no one is mourning except the families of the dead tributes, and that just makes the whole thing sadder for me. Cassiopeia's mother is holding a tiny baby, wrapped in threadbare blanket, and she's crying.

I throw up right after my speech, and it has nothing to do with the fact that I'm pregnant.

* * *

District 9 is exhausting. Zerine's mother wails so loudly the Peacekeepers have to come and take her away, but beyond that no one seems to care.

I don't understand how these people can be so resigned. Maybe they've just spent too long losing.

In District 8 I break down in tears in the middle of my speech, because I can't stop seeing Calico's face when Salinity stabbed her. Esmeralda blames it on hormones and nudges me offstage a little quicker than usual, her face a picture of sympathy.

* * *

Everyone hates me in District 7. Probably because I was there when both of their tributes died, and I couldn't do anything about it.

There's a girl named Alice who yells at me for a full five minutes before a boy next to her drags her away, apologizing to the Peacekeepers. He still glares at me, though, and I can't really blame him.

Camille's friends avoid me like the plague, and I can't blame them for that, either.

All in all, I'm very glad to leave.

Weirdly enough, District 6 is one of the best. Maybe because I had nothing to do with either of their tributes' deaths, no one glares at me or yells at me or anything.

They just kind of recognize that I won and then move on.

In District 5, Shiela's little brother, the only person she had, glares at me with such force that the Peacekeepers spend my entire speech eyeing him warily, and Carlos's family cries.

A lot.

None of them approach me, but that's OK.

* * *

District 4 is, hands down, the worst.

Salinity's brother is stoned and attempts to give me a hug, her mother and father are a mixture of grief-stricken and furious, and Luciel's brother spends the entire time looking like he wants to kill me and everyone else here.

After my speech, he approaches me, and for a brief second I think he's going to try to kill me, but instead he just says, "Why?"

I don't know how to respond to that, so I just whisper, "I'm sorry."

He shakes his head, and then he's gone.

I dissolve into tears a second later, and I don't stop until we're long gone.

* * *

Perona's older sister almost looks _glad_ that I'm here instead of her sister, and I have no idea why, only that it freaks me out. Cyber only had a brother and a father, and his father is so drunk I'm surprised he hasn't fallen right off the stage.

I didn't really know either of them, but Perona's older sister, Jalina, approaches me and _thanks_ me for winning. She doesn't tell me why. I wish I had the courage to ask her.

Even Esmeralda looks relieved when we leave.

* * *

I can't breathe the entire time I'm in District 2. Crimson's little sister glares at me, and both her little brothers have clearly been crying. Carlisle's twin sister doesn't look at me (or anyone, really) throughout my whole speech, and his little brother just looks confused.

Memories swirl through my head with such blinding speed that I can barely keep up, and by the time I've choked out a few words about the people who were my friends, I really just want to leave.

But Calypso De Amire doesn't let me.

As I try to run offstage, she stops me, saying, "I want to show you something."

She looks like she's been crying a lot, and I don't really have the energy to say no, so I let her lead me into the outskirts of the District.

Into a graveyard, filled with all of District 2's fallen tributes.

The two latest are Crimson and Carlisle. And both graves are covered in flowers.

A watery smile makes it's way onto my face.

They are remembered.

* * *

The Capitol is blur of brilliantly colored lights and weirdly dressed people, and all I want to do is get out of there as fast as humanly possible. Fortunately, Esmeralda seems to share that point of view, so we manage to not spend too much time there.

When I get off the train, Veraline tries to choke me again, and Peony attaches herself to my shirt and won't let go. Wilfy barks around my ankles with delight, and Serenity grabs my arm and starts talking a mile a minute, going on about my outfits and so on.

I smile without the threat of tears for the first time a while, and I wish I could put into words how glad I am to be home again.

* * *

Our next-door neighbor's name is Lucita Rubellite, and she's one of the best people in the world. She's made it her personal mission to help me with my cravings, which has made Veraline love her too, because now she doesn't have to get up in the middle of the night when I decide I want raspberry ice cream with honey and peanuts.

Lucita won the 11th Annual Hunger Games, so she's pretty old. She's like the really cool grandmother I never had.

She's also Serenity's hero, and whole bunch of other things that I learned about in school but can't remember now.

I'm eight (almost nine) months pregnant now, and I no longer want to do anything except sit in bed and read books with my cat in my lap. Which works out great, because pretty much everyone I know wants to do things for me.

Even Veraline.

I'm definitely enjoying ordering her around, although I have no doubt she'll find a way to get revenge once the babies come.

"Andri! Where are you?"

I sigh deeply. "Up here, Essie!"

Esmeralda clomps up the stairs and glares at me. "What have I told you about calling me that?"

"If you call me Andri, I'll call you Essie."

"You are infuriating."

"Thank you."

"I brought something from Lucita."

I sit up straight in bed, eyeing the package in Esmeralda's hands. "What? Is it those caramel scones?"

"Yup. Honestly, if you keep eating so many of those you'll get..." She trails off, looking at my stomach. "Never mind."

I stick my tongue out at her and rip open the package, taking a bite of a scone and closing my eyes blissfully. "Mmmmm."

And that's when I feel it. A trickle of warm wetness.

"Oh, crap."

"What?" Esmeralda asks idly. "Scones too hot?"

"Noooo," I say. "My water just broke."

The look of shock on my former mentor's face would be hilarious in any situation besides this one.

"Right. I'll call Jerrick, he has a car."

"You do that."

"And get out of bed!"

"All right, all right!"

I slide my legs out of bed, wriggling my feet into my fuzzy slippers. I let out a half-sigh-half-laugh.

This is really happening.

At least I'm as ready as I'll ever be.

* * *

I've never been so tired in all my life.

But, then again, I haven't ever had two babies before now either.

I'm surrounded by what feels like everyone I've ever known, from Veraline and my parents to all my Victor friends, and all of them (even Esmeralda) are cooing over the twins, who are both asleep.

I wish I was asleep.

"They're soooo cute!" Vera squeals softly.

"I know," I say sleepily. "They are my kids, after all."

Jerrick snorts.

I would roll my eyes, but I'm too tired.

"So," Cashmere says, "what are their names?"

I smile, because this I actually have the energy to tell them. "The girl is Calliope. The boy is Alistair."

"Awwww," says everyone in unison, and Serenity gives me a very obvious wink.

This time, I do roll my eyes.

Everyone starts talking again, and I lean my head back against my pillow and let a smile spread over my face.

Yeah.

This is what victory feels like.

* * *

 **A/N Only one more chapter after this! And congratulations to Sparky She-Demon, who guessed that Andromida was pregnant!**

 **I hope you liked it, and please review!**


	35. Epilogue: Luminous

**A/N Hi everyone! This is the last chapter! Next up is Frost Bite!**

* * *

 **Rani Glyniss, age 28**

 **Gamemaker**

* * *

"You have to come. Right away."

I look up from a stack of files to see Plutarch staring at me, looking uncharacteristically concerned.

"What's up?" I ask.

"You got a message."

"From who?"

"Lowri Labs. Something about something called Project Luminescence."

I almost jump at that. Project Luminescence has been my life's work. It's the reason I got involved in Gamemaking (specifically, mutt design) in the first place. And I haven't heard anything about it for positively years.

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah. Didn't you used to work there?"

"Yup," I say, grabbing my coat off the back of my chair. "See you tomorrow."

"Wait, you're leaving?"

"Uh huh."

"Why -"

I'm out the door before he can finish his sentence, practically sprinting down the street. I pass by a giant TV screen showing Caesar, who is talking about how Andromida Nyx Lede just had her babies.

I ignore it. I ignore pretty much everything.

By the time I get to Lowri Labs, I'm out of breath and I probably look like a crazy person, but I don't care. The doorman lets me in without question. I don't really know why, but I don't have time to question it.

"Ah. Miss Glyniss. How lovely to see you again."

I whirl around at the sound of a familiar voice. "Hello, Mr Calloway. You still work here?"

"Clearly. Would you like me to show you where to go?"

"I remember."

"Oh. I should have expected as much."

I open my mouth to make a snappy retort, but the words die on the way to my mouth and I just turn around and keep walking. There's always been something about Kipling Calloway that just...confuses me.

It's nice to see not much has changed.

"Rani! There you are!"

A smile makes its way onto my face at the sound of that voice. "Carleen!"

My former coworker grins at me, brushing strands of silvery-purple hair out of her eyes. "I'm glad you got my message."

"Your message?"

"Yeah. I'm in charge of Project Luminescence now."

I can't help the tiny sting that goes through me at those words. I knew, theoretically, that they'd replace me, but I guess it didn't seem real until now.

Carleen smiles. "So. You ready to see something incredible?"

"As I'll ever be."

We walk into the lab, and my jaw drops. There's a glass wall separating us from the experiment, so I walk over to it and press my hand against it.

"You know this is your triumph, right?" Carleen says softly. "You were the one who gave us everything we needed to make this."

I swallow. I have no words.

No words to describe the large, silver sphere in the middle of the room behind the glass.

"Does this mean you're moving on to Phase 3?"

"Yes."

I can't help but smile. "You know you can contact me for anything to do with this, right?"

"Duh." Carleen laughs. "Of course, most of my work here gets done in the middle of the night, soooo..."

I laugh as well, hardly able to believe what my eyes are seeing. So much work, so many years, and all of it has been leading up to this moment.

"Miss Lowri?"

Carleen turns around to look at the technician standing behind her. "What?"

They start talking about something, but I tune them out, turning back to the glass. I know I'm a Gamemaker now, but I can work on this too, I'm sure of it. After all, President Snow _has_ to be able to recognize the worth of this discovery. Stupid people don't get to run a country.

He will surely realize that this will change Panem.

" - right, Rani?"

Hearing my name, I turn around and blink at Carleen. "Huh?"

She laughs. "Oh, boy. You didn't hear a word I just said, did you?"

"Nope."

"I was just saying that we need to inform President Snow."

"Oh, yes, of course," I say. "He obviously needs to know."

"You know he'll try to weaponize it."

"Of course he will. But would that be such a bad thing?"

"Maybe not."

I smile, taking Carleen by the arm. "Do you still have a coffee machine in this place?"

She laughs. "Of course we do! How else would we survive?"

A couple minutes later, we're both enjoying large cups of coffee, even though it's about nine o'clock in the evening.

Carleen looks over toward the glass wall. "We never would have been able to pull this off without the mutt-making techniques you gave us. I still can't believe Head Gamemaker Crane even let you use them!"

"Oh, well...he didn't. Not exactly," I say. "But President Snow did."

"Of course he did." Carleen laughs. "He wants this to go through almost as much as we do."

I suppress a smile. He does indeed, but he's not the one who will get to use it.

That honor will go to the rebellion.

So President Snow can weaponize my discovery as much as he wants to, because it'll only be benefiting the rebels, in the end.

"Come on. Let's go celebrate," Carleen says.

I make a face, and she groans, "We haven't seen each other in literally years. Come on, let's go hit a club or something."

"Well..."

"Please?"

"Carli..."

"Pleeeeeaaaaaase?"

"Do you do this to your employees?"

"Sometimes. Now stop changing the subject."

"Fine."

"Whaaahooo!"

"Oh, I wanna take it back."

"Nope, sorry. You can't."

Just then, there's a loud commotion from over by the glass wall. Carleen and I exchange glances, put down our coffee cups, and sprint over to the wall. We have to shove our way through the crowd, and Carleen spends half the time yelling, "I'm your boss! Now get out of the way!" and "If you don't move, you are _totally_ fired!"

I can't complain though. It works.

When we finally reach the front, my mouth drops open.

There are starbursts of cracks all along the silver shell of my discovery.

Or should I say, of the egg.

* * *

 **A/N So yeah. This series does actually have a plot, and that was part of it.**

 **Anyway, I hope you liked it, and please review!**


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